Grains of Sand
by Carcaohtar
Summary: Orphaned, homeless, and starving before the age of 20, Jin is on a quest to find and kill his greatest enemy, a mysterious samurai in glasses, to avenge his honor. But when the dojo gets involved, things take a turn for the worst...
1. Prologue: What Maro Had to Offer

NOTE: Right now this is in the middle of a re-writing / editing process. Suggestions very welcome.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Jin, Mugen, Fuu, Enshirou, Yuki, or any other Samurai Champloo character. But I do own Satsu, Tsutami, Maro, Ringo, Suoh, Haruko, Michi, Kiosai, Kiokame, Kiochiri, Kura, Hana, Kami, Kumi, Rini, Shenji, Saiyu, Koto, Shamisen, Kohachiro, Sho, the fruit vendor, the fish vendor, the owner of the teahouse, the owner of the brothel, the guy who sees Jin naked while he's fighting with Kura and Fuu, and the funny donkey in the hat, to list a few.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Yay! My first fanfic! It's very long and takes a while to get started; the real action doesn't pick up until probably the third or fourth chapter. The first few chapters are "throw-aways," where I just build up momentum and foreshadow a wee bit. By the way, I don't watch the magic box (television) very much and I've only seen less than half of the Champloo episodes. (Yes, I live in a cave.) Apologies for any huge discrepancies. If you see an error, please point it out and I'll correct it. Tried my hardest to keep it accurate but obviously I had to invent a lot about Jin's past.

WARNING: I hate to give hints about what'll happen but sigh I have to. There's a lot of swearing (from Mugen, who else?) and some graphic sexual violence. Oh, and Mugen and Jin have a rather "Victorian" relationship. No, there's no slash, unless you count one paragraph where Mugen gets curious about his sexuality and kisses Jin, but for the most part it's innocent fluff. I think that covers it… if you don't like it, leave now! Save yourself!

* * *

PROLOGUE

The breeze picked up suddenly, setting all the wind chimes of the village in motion and fluttering the hair against the nape of Jin's neck. His ponytail was the only indication that he was not carved from stone; he had been standing under the awning, stationary, for over an hour. His eyes were fixed on the tables within, long, low, wooden tables, remarkable only because they were laden with food. Every screen in the restaurant was folded back and every window shutter thrown open, giving Jin a very clear view of all he could not have. The most popular dish was the chilled soup; above his head, the chimes had rung only four times, and the heat made Jin's kimono stick to his back. His mouth felt like cotton, parched, and his tongue as heavy and cumbersome as the sword by his side. Behind him, people shuffled miserably along, their feet raising clouds of clay-colored dust, dust the same color as the sky, sickly yellow. The only creatures which seemed impervious to the suffocating heat were the flies and the merchants. The merchants darted from person to person, trying with vain eagerness to sell their wares. They had enough sense not to approach Jin, his face steeled against them; but the flies lacked such instincts and bothered him mercilessly. He did not brush them away, realizing the futility of this gesture, but let them crawl over his face, hands, and feet, hurrying over his skin in short bursts of energy and then pausing to rub their hands together, as if they too were perspiring.

Maro was a merchant reviled by the flies and his fellows alike. He was not aesthetically pleasing, nor particularly witty, and perpetuated the bad name of merchantry as a trade, through his lack of subtly, his terrier-like persistence, and his general attitude of sleaziness. He stood in the dust square surveying the few who meandered past with their heads bowed down, the tradesmen sitting in the doorways of their shops, and the other merchants who stood fanning themselves with their wares clustered around their feet, not really caring if they were stolen. (It was unlikely that anyone would be able to run in the heat, let alone while lugging a huge bag of stolen goods.)

Maro's eyes slid past the two occupants of the square (already being swamped with half-hearted offers from the merchants) and landed on Jin, standing alone with his back to the crossroads, overlooked by all the street venders. He could not understand why no one was trying to pawn off their merchandise on him. He looked like a samurai, and samurai always had money on them; he was wearing a relatively clean blue kimono and black hakama. He probably had money.

Maro crossed the square and experienced only a moment of hesitation upon seeing Jin's sword before he announced his presence: "Hot enough for you?"

Jin did not move. The only piece of him not firmly rooted to the ground was his hair, so loose that it threatened at any moment to break free from its top-knot and drop around Jin's face in a solid black veil. Maro wondered if Jin had even heard him at all. He must have, he reasoned, because he had not jumped or twitched when Maro spoke, indicating that he had heard him approaching and was expecting him to speak.

Getting right to the point, Maro asked, "Can I interest you in anything? Fine wares, luxurious silk, some new sandals?"

Still, Jin did not move or speak.

"Perhaps something else? You look like a learned man, maybe you're in need of some books. I have some lovely, beautiful old books for sale."

Slowly, Jin turned around and faced Maro, examining Maro's beaming face and missing teeth with undisguised disdain. "I have no money," he said simply. This was not quite true; he had two momne hidden carefully away in the folds of his kimono. But he was not about to tell Maro that, any more than he was planning to tell anyone else. Though the coins were of no use here, perhaps they would be in another place, another time.

"Ah, come now, I have some very gorgeous antiques… priceless, really…"

"I have no money," repeated Jin calmly.

"…ink, baskets, salt…"

"What would I possibly do with salt?" demanded Jin, still in his flat, even voice.

"Flavor your food?" guessed Maro.

"I don't have food, because I don't have money. Do you think a man with money would be standing outside a restaurant staring into it?"

"Well," said Maro, not flustered in the slightest, "I'm a very negotiable man. I'm willing to trade. Your glasses—"

"Aren't for sale," said Jin firmly. Maro looked disappointed. The glasses, he thought, he could probably sell for a good price; they were small, delicate, very finely wrought. Not a scratch on them.

He knew enough not to attempt to barter with Jin's swords; he looked over Jin carefully. "Surely you must have something—"

"No. I don't."

"But, you, a samurai—your lord must pay—"

"I have no lord," said Jin, sounding for the first time like he might loose his temper. Maro looked over his kimono. It had a crest on it, a four-diamond Takeda mon. He'd seen it before; people who bore it were normally very wealthy, not to mention proud. But he wasn't about to contradict Jin, a potential customer.

"I meant no disrespect," said Maro quickly. "I just thought you must have—"

"I serve no one." Jin sounded like Maro had somehow implied that being a ronin was a disgraceful profession. He hastened to correct himself.

"No, no, of course not! You know, some of the best samurai are ronins, their skills far surpassing that of—"

"Please, leave me alone." Jin sounded chemically sedated once more, flat and calm and without emotion.

"But you haven't even _looked_ at these fine, fine goods yet!" exclaimed Maro, thrusting a basket of assorted knickknacks under Jin's nose.

"I don't want anything!"

"Please, just take a _look_!"

A few other merchants in the square turned to watch. They all wondered if the samurai would lop off Maro's head. (More than half were hoping.)

"They say wealth of knowledge is a wealth unsurpassed…" Maro was saying, loading Jin's arms with books.

"I don't have any money!" snapped Jin, shoving them back.

"Please, I have a wife and four children to feed!" begged Maro, reverting to another tactic.

"_No_," said Jin firmly, and put a hand on the hilt of his sword. Maro looked down, saw it, and with a subdued manner retreated. Jin turned back to watching the restaurant. The other merchants chuckled.

With a sigh, Maro sat against the wooden wall of a store, dust rising when he sat.

Across the square, another merchant called out to him. "Hey, Maro! No luck, huh?"

Maro ignored him.

"Maro and his samurai in glasses!" chuckled another.

"They're all the same, aren't they? Poor Maro!"

Jin glanced over and seemed to fight an internal battle. With a sigh he left his post outside the restaurant and crossed the road. The other merchants perked up with interest.

"What are they calling to you for?" he demanded.

"Isn't it obvious?" said Maro plainitively, still sitting on the ground with his legs spread out in front of him

Jin seemed to consider. "You've approached other samurai," he concluded slowly.

"Yes," said Maro.

"Is there any place within twenty miles to get a meal for two momne?"

Maro laughed himself senseless before he answered. "If you could find a place that cheap, you'd be hallucinating. You can't get _anything_ for any less than twenty-five." Realization dawned on Maro and he sprang to his feet with the agility of a much younger man. "Of course, _I _have things for under ten! Very good things! Very negotiable!"

"Hm," considered Jin. He picked up a book from Maro's basket and flipped through it without much interest. "This book is _blank_."

"Oh—is it? Well, it's supposed to be!"

"What knowledge could a blank book hold?" asked Jin.

Maro considered this. "Well," he said, very slowly, "it's for… ideas. You could write in it. I'm sure someone as intelligent as you have tons of ideas just floating around in your head…" he added, picking up steam.

"I don't need a book to organize my thoughts. My brain is quite capable of that already," said Jin coldly. He squinted angrily at Maro. "Tell me about the other samurai."

"Sorry. I only help customers," said Maro, equally cold.

"Fine." With a sigh, Jin rustled around inside his kimono and handed over the money, tucking the book into his kimono. "Now talk."

Maro shrugged. "A few weeks ago another samurai with glasses passed through. Tried to get him to buy something, but he wouldn't. That's it."

"What did he look like?" growled Jin, muscles tensing like he was about to spring on Maro.

"I don't know. He had glasses and was dressed like you," said Maro helplessly. "What more do you want?"

"Where was he going?"

Maro scratched his head. He closed one eye thoughtfully and poked his tongue through a gap in his teeth, then finally pointed west. "That way. He was coming home from some… thing… I can't remember."

Jin opened his mouth, but before he could, a female voice rang over the square: "Jin! Jin?"

He tucked the book into his kimono and walked away. The merchants watched him go, both awed and repulsed that Maro had had success where they all had failed.

"Jin? Jin, there you are!" A teenage girl in a bright orange kimono and a pink butterfly obi sash dashed down the road. A few people cocked eyebrows; from what they'd seen, this was not the company the samurai would choose to keep. "I've been looking _everywhere_ for you," she exclaimed, taking his arm and giving it a tug.

"I found a place to eat," said Jin.

"REALLY!" she cried, so loudly that a bird lighted from a nearby rooftop. "That we can AFFORD?"

"No, not that we can afford," said Jin.

The girl's face fell and she yelled, "Well, why did you even say that!"

"I'm making polite conversation," said Jin, a laugh hidden behind his subdued voice. It was the closest to joking he ever came. The girl, in annoyance, grabbed his arm again and dragged him away. The merchants shook their heads.

"The foreigners just get weirder and weirder every year…" mumbled one.

* * *

"And then he said, 'not that we can afford,' and I said, 'why did you bother telling me, then?' and he said, 'oh, I'm just making conversation,' but he was obviously doing it just to annoy me and—stop laughing!"

"I'm not laughing," said Mugen, who had a hyena-like grin on his face even as he spoke. It was late sunset; half the sky was already deep blue and sprinkled with stars. They—specifically, Jin and Mugen—had built a campfire on the edge of town. Although trees blocked the view of the town itself, it was less than an hour down the road, and they could see smoke rising in the east.

Jin had excused himself from the camp after dumping an armload of firewood down, leaving Fuu and Mugen alone. The entire quest was Fuu's idea—some sketchy search for a samurai who "smelled like sunflowers." Neither Jin nor Mugen entirely understood what this meant, but as Fuu had helped them out of tight spots before, they felt bound to serve her. And, aside from that, they had tried ditching her before and never been successful.

It wasn't that they _disliked_ Fuu. It was just that she was much younger than both of them and at times a bit ditzy. She talked endlessly, berating them and giggling and throwing tantrums, and both felt she was beneath them.

They also felt the other was beneath them. Mugen disliked Jin for his traditional style—it was boring and outdated. Jin disliked Mugen because he completely disregarded all the traditional rules—he was crude and boorish. Yet neither one had yet defeated the other, and they tried daily to kill each other, so it can be said with some reliability that their skills were evenly matched.

"It's _not funny_!" shrieked Fuu, while Mugen snorted and shook with the effort of not laughing.

When Fuu got indignant, she looked even younger than fifteen—her bright clothes, rosy cheeks, and girlish little hair style all contributed to her overall childish and not-too-bright appearance.

Mugen, on the other hand, always looked older than he was. He had an arrogant smirk carved permanently into his face, framed with his short, spiky hair that stuck out uncontrollably in every direction. He did not wear a traditional kimono, but had shorts and a deep red overshirt. His undershirt might have, at one time, been white, but was now gray and sewn together so loosely it looked ready to fall apart at any moment. His sword was slung carelessly over his back, the strap over his chest tied with a bit of string halfway down, and his ears were pierced. He looked like someone who would have no qualms about throwing down an old woman and stealing her money (he wouldn't).

When together, the three looked bizarre—each dealt with it in a different way. Fuu, annoyed with the constant fighting between Jin and Mugen, coped by chatting endlessly and being giggly and cheerful. Mugen coped with it by being loud and aggressive. Jin coped by retreating within himself and detaching himself completely from the outside world.

"It's not! Stop it! Stop laughing _right now_!"

"Who knew someone as lame as Jin could crack a joke?" asked Mugen, as tears of laughter rolled down his face. "That's great—"

"It wasn't great! It wasn't funny! He really got my hopes up! STOP LAUGHING!"

Mugen crossed his arms over his stomach and rocked by the fire laughing hysterically. Fuu crossed her arms as well (her colorful kimono made a soft "fump") and pouted.

"How come the only time you two ever agree if when you're against me?"

Mugen was giggling too hard to answer.

"Where is he anyways?"

"Doing his stupid kata routine," said Mugen, gaining control of himself long enough to answer. He took a few deep breaths between snickers. "Always practicing. Because he knows if he ever lets his guard down, I'll kick his—"

"What was that about letting one's guard down?"

Mugen jumped. Jin emerged from the trees and sat crossed-legged on the ground, as far away from Fuu and Mugen as he could get. Fuu glared at him, but the effect was lost; prettiness and furiousness never work too well together. Fuu glanced at Mugen, who gave Jin a perfect glare for her.

"I heard you," said Mugen defensively. "I just didn't think you were worth getting worked up over."

"Okay," said Jin neutrally, laying his sword over his lap and running his sleeve over the blade to polish it.

"Really!" insisted Mugen.

"I believe you," said Jin, implying in his voice that he didn't believe Mugen at all.

"Instead of arguing over who saw who _maybe_ we can focus on the problem of _getting food_ even though we have _no_ money," snapped Fuu. Mugen and Jin rolled their eyes. "Sure, go ahead, roll your eyes, act like you know all the answers! I'm the only one who ever thinks about this stuff, you two think you're so smart, but it's always me bailing us out, isn't it, and always me finding food and money and deciding where to go and—" While Fuu ranted, Jin continued to polish his sword, and Mugen plucked a piece of grass and began chewing on the end. Fuu might as well not have been there at all, but their apathy didn't stop her; she rambled on while Mugen chewed his grass and Jin polished his sword.

"—totally lazy and irresponsible and acting like a couple of kids." Fuu paused to take a breath. Jin jumped in.

"Why do we need to buy food? Mugen seems content to eat grass," he said passively.

Mugen glared at him but didn't spit out the blade he was chewing on. "I don't need to be touching my sword all the time to feel like a big man. I have enough talent not to need that. Some people, on the other hand…"

"There you go again!" shouted Fuu. "See? You're always bickering! We'd get a lot more accomplished if you'd just—"

"What do you have?" blurted Mugen

Everyone looked surprised. Fuu looked surprised at being interrupted; Jin looked surprised that he was being spoken to. Even Mugen looked shocked at his voice.

"What?" asked Fuu, slightly confused.

"I asked Jin what he has. He just touched something. In his kimono."

"I don't have anything," said Jin.

"No, I saw you," insisted Mugen, crouching on his heels as if he was ready to spring on Jin. "You moved your hand up and your fingers brushed something in your kimono." His eyes narrowed. "You've been holding out on us!"

"No I haven't. You just imagined it."

"Jin, _do _you have anything?" asked Fuu suspiciously. It was not that she distrusted Jin, but she'd learned never to doubt Mugen's street smarts.

"No, I don't," he said.

Fuu and Mugen looked at each other. "I saw it," insisted Mugen. He stood, reached behind his back, and pulled out his sword. His blade gleamed in the firelight. Jin didn't move; he continued to sit with his own sword in his lap. "Give it to us," demanded Mugen.

Jin's eyes narrowed very, very slightly. "I don't have anything," he said, in a very soft, low voice.

"You wanna do it the hard way, bad-boy? Huh? I don't have a problem with that."

"Wait!" cried Fuu. She sprang in front of Mugen. "Let me," she begged him. She gave him the cutest look she could muster, then walked over to Jin. He stood, holding his sword loosely like he didn't intend to use it. "You wouldn't hit a girl, would you?" she asked.

"I would in self-defense," said Jin flatly, tightening his grip a little on his sword.

"Jin, do you have any money?"

"I have no more than you or Mugen has," he answered, which was true. He was almost certain both of them were hoarding away their own money.

"Okay," she said simply, turning away.

"WHAT! You BELIEVE him? I can't believe—" Mugen began shouting. But he never finished, because Fuu whipped around and tackled Jin. Of course, Jin was a samurai, and Fuu was not; and he had been expecting it; but all the same, he could not hurt her. He jumped back and twisted, in an attempt to get out of her reach. Once he was, he could easily avoid her; but in the few crucial seconds he had to dart away, she grabbed his hair, and he was not expecting that. No one had ever grabbed his hair in a battle; it was unheard of.

Fuu didn't just grab his ponytail, either. She pushed his fingers down onto his scalp, tangling herself in him and making it impossible to pull her off. She felt his hands on her wrists and the weight of body pressing down on her, and realized he was enfolding her into an embrace so that she could not touch him. She gave him a sharp kick in the shin that didn't seem to register.

Meanwhile, Mugen had jumped into the fray. He danced around them, not wanting to hurt Fuu but starting to think it might be unavoidable. But then Jin wrapped his arms around her and he jumped in, managing to deliver a harsh blow with the flat of his blade against Jin's neck. Jin let out a small cry, let go of Fuu, whipped around to face Mugen, and had Fuu grab him around the neck. Mugen hit him across the knees and then the face; he crashed to the ground, inelegantly, in a billowy cloud of cloth.

Fuu sat on his legs while Mugen straddled his back, gripping his wrists with one hand.

"Now, let's see what you have," said Mugen conversationally.

"Get off me," commanded Jin coldly, as if they were facing each other instead of one sitting on the other.

"I've finally beat you, huh?"

"You haven't beat me. Fuu interfered."

"Yeah, right," scoffed Mugen. "Like Fuu is _such_ a great asset."

"Hey!" cried Fuu indignantly. "You never would have been able to touch him if I wasn't there!"

"Whatever," said Mugen dismissively. He leaned forward and plunged a hand into Jin's kimono.

"Let _go_ of me!" exclaimed Jin, squirming slightly with discomfort.

Mugen pulled the book from his kimono and tossed it aside without looking at it. Fuu made a small "hm" noise and reached for it, lying in the dust, face-down.

"Ah-_ha_! I knew it!" said Mugen triumphantly, pulling a momne from Jin's clothes. "You _were_ holding out on us, you greedy bastard!"

"It's only one!" replied Jin indignantly. "How many are _you_ hiding, Mugen?"

Mugen grabbed the back of Jin's hair and shoved his face in the dirt. "You know, Jin…" began Mugen, as if Jin weren't suffocating in the dust, "you're a lot smarter than I thought, keeping money from us like that. Well, I guess you'd _have_ to be smarter than you _look_…" He let go of Jin's hair for a moment to examine his nails. Jin sputtered and gasped for air. Mugen finished admiring his nails and shoved Jin's head back down. "Guess you're not as noble and honest as we thought, huh?"

"Mugen, let him go," said Fuu sharply. She was flipping through the book idly.

"What's that? Your diary or something?" He plucked it from Fuu's hands and thumbed through the pages. "Dude, this is completely blank… HEY!" He shoved it back into Fuu's hands and pushed Jin's face down even more violently before. "It's _new_ isn't it? You _bought_ it didn't you? You had _more money_, you little prick!"

"Mugen! I said let him _go_!" shouted Fuu.

Mugen complied with a look of vehemence. Jin raised his head and shook it, coughing.

"You feel really powerful, don't you, Mugen? Being able to torture me while I'm helpless?" sneered Jin. "You're a coward. A low-life, scummy coward."

"I'm not the one eating dirt," sneered Mugen back.

"Both of you, stop it!" snapped Fuu. "Jin, Mugen's right, you shouldn't have been lying to us. Mugen, Jin's right, we've all been holding out."

"I have not!" cried Mugen in a voice that implied he couldn't think of a more unjust accusation.

"Oh yeah? Turn out your pockets," challenged Fuu.

Mugen and Fuu looked at each other for a long, long time. The only movement was Mugen's hand shaking as he restrained Jin's (Jin was straining with all his might to get loose).

Slowly, Mugen reached down with his free hand and turned out both his pockets. He had four momne.

"See? You had four, and Jin only had one."

"Well, yeah, he has one _now_. Who knows how much he had before he went on his little shopping spree—"

"You have no evidence he just bought it, just because it's never been written in—"

"What, so he stole it or something?"

"You're such a jerk, Mugen…"

"LET ME GO!" barked Jin over their arguing.

The two realized with a start that they were still sitting on Jin's back, as if he were a rather low couch in the middle of the woods.

"We'll get off you if you promise not to retaliate against us once we do," said Fuu. Mugen nodded in approval, even though Jin couldn't see him.

"I give you my word," said Jin after a moment, sounding disgusted with himself.

Mugen grabbed his hair and gave his face one more shove before he and Fuu climbed off him. Jin stood, as expressionless as if nothing had happened, and began brushing the dust from the front of his clothes. He picked up his sword and sheathed it (of course, it was dusty, and all his polishing had gone to waste) and then paused with a glance around.

"Here." Fuu held out the journal. He took it and tucked it inside his kimono. Without a word, he retreated to the far side of the campfire and propped his back against a tree, putting his chin on his chest and closing his eyes. Mugen and Fuu picked out their own corners around the fire. Mugen glared at Fuu, who had taken his four momne along with Jin's, but eventually gave up because she was ignoring him, and slouched down into sleep.

Fuu sat up with her legs curled under her, watching the fire pop and send small sparks into the sky, that fireflies chased and moths followed to their untimely deaths.

"You're not really asleep, are you?" she asked the moon, after a long, long time.

"No," answered Jin to his chest, eyes still closed.

"Where _did _you get that journal, Jin?"

He took so long to answer that she began to wonder if he'd gone to sleep.

"A friend," he said finally, as if there was no long silence at all.

Fuu didn't need to say any more; she watched the stars, and Jin went to sleep.


	2. Chapter One: Jin's Journal

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Nothing cool happens here. I'm just warming up. Same disclaimers apply. Also, the tankas written by Jin I "borrowed" from the Tanka Splendor contest, hosted by AHA Book Company. Please don't kill me for it.

CHAPTER ONE

"So, I've been thinking…"

"Guess there's a first time for everything."

Mugen ignored him. "We've been sleeping out on hard ground for ages. Why don't we start staying someplace nice?"

It was nearly sunset again. Mugen, Jin, and Fuu had been walking down the road all day. Nothing remarkable had happened, except one very fast, furious fight that was provoked when Mugen began chuckling at the memory of shoving Jin's face in the dirt. They were now really in the woods, far away from the village, hopefully making their way toward a place with cheap food. They probably could have walked another few miles, but hunger was making them tired, and Fuu had found a clearing that was only a short distance away from a stream. She was leading Mugen and Jin to it; both their faces were obscured by piles of firewood.

"We don't have any money for that," said Fuu patiently.

"Well, why can't you sell yourself? I mean, come on, you're hot…"

"I've met grubs with better manners than you, Mugen," said Jin behind his pile. "And better taste, for that matter.

"HEY!" cried Fuu. He was practically dancing in his attempts not to trip over unseen tree roots. Mugen was stepping heavily, like he could simply stomp out any lumps on the ground. Fuu skipped ahead, without firewood to weigh her down.

"Look, I'm just saying, we need money bad, and we have a resource here we're not using…"

"Screw you, Mugen," said Fuu politely, stopping. "Okay, just drop it here."

Both Mugen and Jin dropped their piles, on opposite sides of the small clearing. It was only as large as perhaps a very small restaurant, but the overreaching tree branches had blocked sunlight from reaching the ground, and the fact that there was no tall grass was a redeeming quality. They could hear the stream gurgling, unseen, to their left.

"Can you move it to the middle?" asked Fuu.

"No way. I'm going to take a bath," said Mugen flippantly, stuffing his hands in his pockets and walking off into the trees toward the river.

"Again, I guess there's a first time for everything," muttered Jin. He bent down and began picking up twigs. Fuu started moving Mugen's pile.

"So…" she began.

Jin's face was hard and motionless.

"You're not still mad about last night, are you?"

Jin heaved a heavy log up and dropped it over the carefully built pile Fuu had made. It smashed every little twig she'd stacked for the fire.

"Well, I'm sorry, Jin, but we need that money!" she said in a high voice, color rising into her cheeks.

"I understand if my dignity is worth less than one momne to you," said Jin. He dropped a second log angrily.

"Arrgg," growled Fuu with frustration. She and Jin moved all the wood, and Fuu set her back against a tree and began scribbling furiously inside her own diary while Jin stared the fire.

After a moment he pulled out his own book and flipped through it slowly. Fuu looked up for a moment before returning to her writing. She kept glancing up, though, at Jin; he stared at the blank pages as if reading something invisible.

Finally, she asked, "Are you going to write in it?"

"I don't have anything to write with."

"You can borrow mine." She tossed him a small jar of ink before he could protest. He caught it in one hand, but kept staring at the page blankly.

"Having trouble getting started?" asked Fuu sympathetically after a long time.

Jin didn't answer, but met her eyes.

"You should write about yourself, first."

_Why_? wondered Jin. He already knew about himself; there was no need to write it down if he already knew it. And it wasn't like the book needed to know. And no one else would ever read it.

He watched Fuu for a moment. She had already written far more than had happened that day.

As if reading his mind, Fuu said, "You don't just have to write about what's happening. You can write about your dreams and your hopes and everything." She beamed. Jin wondered why she was so happy. Maybe she was hoping to get him to start writing, and then read it, like he had once read hers.

Anyways, he thought, her advice wasn't bad. Writing about himself would at least be better than writing "I hate Mugen," which is what he had been contemplating before. Mugen didn't deserve to be written about at all. He couldn't even read.

"And you can write about memories and the future and your thoughts," Fuu continued.

"Why?" asked Jin finally. "Why would anyone write down their memories, if they already remembered them?"

"I don't know… you just do. It helps you think," said Fuu weakly.

Jin sighed at her foolishness and began careful, even strokes.

_My name is Jin._

He paused to consider. What else was there to say, really?

_Jin means "compassion." I am not sure why my parents named me this. Perhaps they were hoping for a girl rather than a boy. This is just one example of the cruel irony that_

He stopped, as if disturbed by his own momentum.

"It doesn't have to be perfect," said Fuu, without looking up. "You can cross stuff out and add stuff. No one cares if it's not perfect. See?" She displayed a page. Her handwriting was thinner, hastier, but its form was perfect from practice. A few things here and there had been crossed out on the page, in wide X shapes. "Of course, you already know that, from reading mine," said Fuu with a scowl.

While she buried herself back into her own violated diary, Jin considered. It was true; it didn't have to be perfect. He would have liked it, but he'd only paid one momne for it, and it wasn't like anyone could read it, except maybe Fuu, and what did he care about a fifteen-year-old, critiquing his style?

_I have never kept a journal before, because it has always seemed to me like a waste of time. But now that I've bought the journal, it would be a waste of money not to use it. Fuu keeps one. She acts foolish but is much more intelligent than she lets on. She has been giving me tips, most of them worthless, about what to write. She said I do not need to record what happens, only what I think._

_I think that my brain is perfectly capable of thinking and doesn't need my hand or a book to help it. I also think this quest is as worthless as writing down thoughts on paper, thoughts that will never even be read, and that it's only a matter of time before Fuu realizes how foolish she is and gives up entirely._

"And sometimes, I write poetry and songs and things," said Fuu. Jin crossed out the last paragraph and started over.

_I wonder why people write down thoughts that will never be read by anyone but themselves. Do they worry they will forget them? I do not worry. If I forget something, then it was not worth remembering._

_Fuu says she writes poetry. I saw some in the margins of her diary but didn't bother to read it. I wish I had, now. Mugen would not have appreciated it but I might have._

Jin stared at what he wrote a long time, as if hoping it would change itself and give him some great insight. But it did not, so he tucked his journal back into his kimono, leaned his chin onto his chest, and was asleep by the time Mugen returned.

* * *

_Today I went to the stream to bathe, before the sun had risen. I practiced my kata afterwards, while the sun rose over the tops of the trees. The reflection of the light in the water made it look red._

_Fuu said she peple write memories in their journals. I have nothing else to say about my morning, so I'll remember something instead._

_I remember being six years old, and climbing a peach tree. It was a small tree that leaned beside a house. The house was low to the ground, with a thatched roof and painted screen over the windows. The house was wood, but the wind had worn its color off, making it a drab gray. The tree was rich brown and leaned very far over, so that its branches shadowed the path that led from the house, and blossoms dropped there in the spring. In late summer, I hugged the rough bark and pulled myself into the top of it, where I could see the thatched roof of the house, and beyond it, a hill that lead down to a village. The village was all brown and gray, and even the trees and grass were drab. But the peaches in the tree were bright orange, and the blossoms pink, the same color as Fuu's kimono. I remember reaching for a peach that was far out. There were others, closer, but the one I wanted was on the very tip of a branch. I stretched as far as I could, and of course I fell onto the path and tore open my knee, covering my leg in small rivulets of bright red. I sat beside the tree and sucked on scraped hands and waited for my mother to come. When she found me, she asked, "How did you fall?" I told her I was reaching for the peach on the end of the branch and had lost my footing. "You are a very foolish child," she told me. "There were other peaches that were much closer, and they all taste the same." She reached up and plucked the peach I'd indicated, which she was tall enough to reach, because it hung down so low. She handed it to me, wiped my leg, and took my hand. We walked inside, and the sun setting to my right was the same red as my knee, and the same orange as my peach._

_Fuu said she writes poetry. I cannot write poetry. Fuu said anyone can write poetry, even people who cannot. Sometimes I wonder if she knows what she's saying at all._

_Without a word_

_Remaining between us_

_With a sharp knife_

_She cuts the soft yellow peach_

_To the ragged bloody pit._

* * *

"So, hey, know what I've been thinking?"

"Thinking again? Aren't you over-reaching yourself?" asked Jin coldly. Mugen took no notice of him. He and Jin were walking side by side, about seven steps behind Fuu. Jin was walking as if his entire body was bound with thick ropes beneath his kimono; his hakama hid all movement of his feet, so it looked like he was gliding along stiffly. Mugen was swinging out his arms and legs, like he was swatting bugs away, and indeed occasionally he broke his own stride to clap at a fly in the air.

"We've got ten momne, right?"

"Nine," said Fuu.

"Ten momne…" repeated Mugen. "Next place we come to, I say, we buy ourselves something nice."

"Like food?" asked Jin cynically.

"Food and girls, that's what. I've been thinking, and the reason we never get anything to eat is, we're not looking in the right places. I think we ought to start looking in cheaper districts. We'll get a lot more. You know, I'm sick of all this stupid getting-expensive-food-just-because-it's-less-likely-to-be-spit-on stuff. I say, next town we come to, we buy some crab cakes and some girls and just have ourselves a good time."

"That's ambitious of you," said Fuu scornfully.

"No, really, it'll work. You take three and we'll take seven. You buy some food, cheap, and me and my buddy Jin here can hit the brothels and pool our money and share a meal."

"How can you think of girls at a time like this, Mugen? We haven't eaten in ages." Fuu was starting to fall back; she was almost beside Mugen, so that she could better glare at him. Their strides were similar; she swung her hands out as she walked, only the tips of her fingers showing past the sleeves of her bright kimono. Mugen's swings were less elegant.

"Ah, come on, we've gotta have some fun once in a while!"

Without warning, he reached over and slung an arm around Jin's shoulders. In an instant Jin had drawn his sword.

"Put it away," said Mugen breezily. "Come on, we're pals, aren't we? I'm gonna show you a night on the town, Jin. We're gonna have some fun for once."

With a look of confusion, disgust, and annoyance all rolled into one, Jin sheathed his sword. Mugen pretended not to notice his stiffness.

"We can find a cheap place, I bet. They said there was a big city this way, didn't they? Cities always have cheaper places. We can each get a girl for one, maybe two momne…"

"Mugen, I really don't think that's a good idea," fretted Fuu.

"…and we'll have at least five left, we can get some seafood or something. You like seafood, right, Jin? I could really go for something… fried, yeah, and crunchy and swimming in sauce, with some fruits and some sake and…"

Fuu cocked an eyebrow, directed at Jin. Jin ignored her, looking peeved. But Fuu thought she knew what Mugen was doing; in his own bizarre way, he was trying to make up with Jin for shoving his face in the dirt. He would never apologize; but getting Jin a whore was the closest he could bring himself.

"…while we're out, you can buy something nice for yourself too, Fuu. And, hey! Me and you, we'll have a place to stay for the night, Jin. What do you like of that? No more hard ground!"

"And what about after we've spent all our money on cheap, diseased girls and cheap, diseased food?" asked Jin calmly.

"Hey, don't worry about that," said Mugen, patting Jin's chest. Jin looked like he could have bitten Mugen's hand off. "We'll get more. Maybe Fuu can look for jobs, huh? Or sell herself."

"I will _not_!" cried Fuu.

"Okay, okay, whatever. Look for jobs, pick-pocket old ladies, I don't care…"

Fuu rolled her eyes, but didn't protest as much as she would have. Even though she was in agreement with Jin, and thought the idea of blowing all the money in one night was a bad idea, she thought it was nice that Mugen was at least trying. Besides, what were the chances of even being able to find anything for so little money?

"And plus, Fuu, you'll have the whole night to yourself to ask about your sunflower samurai!" He grinned. She rolled her eyes very obviously at him.

"When _do_ we get to this city?" asked Jin. He looked over the top of his glasses to Mugen as he said it, implying that he didn't care how far away the city was; what he really wanted to know was when Mugen would remove his arm from around his shoulders.

"Well, I guess, in theory, we could reach it tonight," said Fuu slowly. "But I'm really tired…"

"Stop being such a girl," sneered Mugen.

"Excuse me, but I _am_ a girl and I'm tired and I say we're going to stop and sleep and get there tomorrow!"

Mugen took his arm from around Jin's shoulders, and he and Fuu began bickering. Jin floated beside them serenely, his limbs swaying a little more with his step.

* * *

_Fuu says we will reach the next city tomorrow. In the past week, all we have eaten is a few rice cakes each, and some berries we found in the woods. Mugen is certain we can get food there for only a few coins, but at the last town, they said it was impossible to buy anything for less than twenty. But food doesn't matter to me. At the last town, I heard an interesting rumor of a samurai in glasses passing through. For all I know, I could find him in the next town. But it could be anyone. There are probably more than a few samurai in glasses in the world. I shouldn't get my hopes up, like I have so many times before._

There was a sharp crack. Jin jumped, accidentally making a large blot on the page. He looked up sharply at Mugen. He was climbing a tree like a child, swinging around a bit stupidly. Jin shook his head and turned back to his writing.

_Today Mugen is acting more juvenile _(he crossed it out) _more loutish _(he crossed it out)_ stranger than usual. __Writing each night has become rather amusing for me. Fuu and I sit with our backs to trees, warming by the fire. Mugen, who cannot read or write, is left out of this intimate moment and resorts to some very childish and completely uncalled for tactics to call attention to himself. Fuu is far less patient than I, and glares at him frequently over the top of her page. I wonder what Mugen imagines we are writing. He probably thinks we're writing about him._

Jin paused and scratched his nose, then crossed out the last two sentences.

_Fuu writes a lot of speculations in her our journal. I dislike speculations and prefer solid fact. She is always wondering who the sunflower-smelling samurai is. She has many theories which contradict each other. More and more I think this task is impossible…_

"Ahh!" cried Mugen. He fell from his tree and crashed to the ground, sending leaves wafting up and then floating back down delicately. Mugen popped up with leaves in his hair, smiling brazenly.

Fuu and Jin both rolled their eyes and turned back to their journals.

_Mugen just fell out of a tree, probably to impress Fuu, as if his antics are endearing rather then extremely annoying. All he wants is attention._

"Hey, Jin!" Mugen held out his sword.

_Now he's challenging me to fight. I will ignore him._

"C'mon, Jin. Scared? Huh?" Mugen slid closer. "Think I'll beat you again?"

"You didn't beat me," said Jin calmly. He brushed a bit of hair behind his ear and leaned so close to the page, his glasses threatened to fall off the edge of his nose.

_I will not waste any more ink or paper on him. He's not the company I would choose to keep, but fate sometimes works in strange ways._

_For example, I may meet a woman one day and fall in love, find myself willing to give up my life for her the next day, and then be back on the road with Fuu and Mugen less than a week later. A lot can happen in a short amount of time. The more that happens in a short space of time, the more powerful the moment is. This is why speed is the most critical skill a samurai can learn. This is why Mugen will not ever beat me. His skill is much like a crude, improvisational dance. But once I learn the pattern of his moves—and there must be a pattern—then he will fall. As yet, I can see no pattern. But then, I confess I purposely am very ignorant of his style, champuru-kendo. In any case I am sure it is a trend which will eventually fade out. Mine will live on, just as it has for centuries…_

"Ji-i-in," called Mugen. He was practically singing, pulling out the "ee" noise in Jin's name to create an annoying, pining sound. He swung his sword a few times at the air, like he was fighting Jin's ghost, pulling a few impressive moves for Fuu's sake.

Jin repositioned himself against the tree, so that the fire was to his right and Mugen was to his back.

_This happened to me once, falling in love. Looking back, it was very foolish. I knew very little about her. I, like any other man, have my weaknesses. Love is one; unbridled anger another. In general, emotion. Fools who wear their hearts on their sleeves, like Mugen, come to very sticky ends. Some say that a fight is a good time to unleash all emotion upon the enemy, but the very opposite is true; a fight is a time when one must carefully guard his emotions more than ever, or else lose control of himself, his sword, and his environment._

He crossed out Mugen's name.

"Are you actually writing anything?" asked Mugen. He'd inched up behind Jin and was leaning over as far as he dared to see his writing. "Or just crossing stuff out?"

"I'm crossing out unimportant, dull words. Like your name."

Mugen squinted. "What're you saying about me?" he asked suspiciously.

"I wrote than you are a fool who wears his heart on his sleeve."

Fuu snorted into the sleeve of her kimono. Mugen's head whipped around and he glared at her. The color rose in her face and she shook.

"Stop laughing!"

Fuu turned away and had a coughing fit that sounded a lot like giggling.

"Gambling."

"What?"

"Gambling," repeated Mugen. He'd climbed back into a tree and sat there, one leg drawn up, the other dangling down and knocking against the flat of his sword's blade. "That's how we'll get money."

"_No_, Mugen, we've already thrown a lot away, and I'm not going to blow it on something risky—"

"Listen, why not pitch me or Jin in a fight with someone and then bet on us to win? You _know_ we'll win."

"No, Mugen!"

Jin traced his upper lip with his finger and tuned out the arguing.

_If I find him in the next down, I'll have to leave her. I will feel bad leaving Fuu with Mugen, but it can't be helped. Her quest for this Sunflower Samurai doesn't seem to have a point. At least my quest does. In any case, she's not my charge. She isn't paying me, and the only thing keeping me bound to her is my own sense of honor. If Mugen betrays her, it's entirely her own fault for associating with scum like him._

Mugen burst out laughing at something Fuu said. Jin's head jerked up. His action was so sudden that Mugen stopped laughing immediately.

"Man, Jin, you really get into that, huh?"

"No," said Jin defensively.

"What're you writing?" asked Fuu, scooting over and craning her neck.

"Nothing!"

"Know what your problem is, Jin?" asked Mugen, dropping from the limb and dangling by his knees. "You care too much. You never say anything interesting, you never do anything, you never have _fun_. That's why we're going to have the time of our life tomorrow night."

"Oh no you're not!" snapped Fuu, eyes blazing. Jin allowed them to fight.

_Sometimes, I find it's_

_easier to turn away,_

_detaching myself_

_from these people, who say so_

_little in so many words._

He heard his name and looked up.

"…but that's not everything," finished Mugen, giving Jin a very wise, appraising look.

"I didn't say it was," replied Jin, having no idea what he meant. He must have looked surprised, because both Fuu and Mugen burst out laughing. He lowered his head and put his journal away.


	3. Chapter Two: False Affection

CHAPTER TWO

Fuu hadn't given much thought to what Mugen had said, about their money, but as they neared the city, it began nagging her in the back of her head, as persistent and irritating as the flies that followed them around in swarms.

They smelled the city before anything. The stream they'd been seen in the woods ran to their left, and its smell became fouler and fouler the farther down the road they went. Not only this, but they began to see garbage floating along the side of the road. The road itself widened, from a small dirt strip to a spacious width, bordered by the stagnant drainage ditches that were occasionally clogged by dams of trash. Even the air got thicker and seemed dirtier.

"I can't believe I was swimming in that," said Mugen in disgust, as the trees thinned to give them a better view of the stream, murky and thick as oil.

"Yeah, like you care," scoffed Fuu.

Next they heard the city; somewhere over the hills they began to hear a soft white noise, like rustling, that quickly grew into an orchestra of shouting, rattling, clattering, clacking, braying, lowing, and other sounds. The trees were replaced with peasant cottages, and suddenly they crested a hill and went looking down a sweeping expanse of building and grid-laid roads, fitted in as tightly as possible. At the last town, they'd gotten the impression the city wouldn't be so large; but they had failed to realize that the people in the last town hated the city and permanently underemphasized its grandeur.

"This is it!" said Mugen happily, rubbing his hands together and casting a glance around. (It ended in a shake of his shaggy head.)

"Mugen, listen, I'm not—" began Fuu.

"Shut up and give me the money. In two hours we'll have plenty."

"Mugen, I really don't think—" she said anxiously.

"Know what'd be cool? We could stage a fight, you know, me and Jin…" He paused to pretend to punch Jin. Jin automatically held up his arm to block it. "But I don't think Jin could stand being beaten again."

"You didn't beat me," growled Jin. His hand had been wrapped around his sword's hilt ever since the city came into view; now it tightened.

"Okay, okay!" said Mugen breezily. "Anyways, Fuu, give me the money. At least five momne. You and Jin can take the rest. Do whatever you want! Have fun! Eat! Drink! Be merry!"

"For tomorrow we may die," said Jin, to himself.

"Huh?" asked Mugen.

"Mugen, I'm not—" started Fuu again. But as she spoke, she was reaching into her obi to touch the coins protectively, and she stopped abruptly when she realized that they were no longer there.

Mugen grinned.

"You!" she hissed.

"Yeah, me. Here, pal." Mugen flicked a couple of coins into the air. Jin caught them with one hand and they disappeared. "I'll catch you two later. Right here in three hours." He winked, gave a little ironic salute with two fingers, and side-stepped into the crowd, disappearing as easily as a shadow.

"ARRGG," cried Fuu. She stomped the ground and bared her teeth. "Sometimes I just hate him!"

"Because you do not pay enough attention to prevent him from pick-pocketing you?" asked Jin. It wasn't meant as a jib; Jin was being completely serious. But Fuu didn't take it that way. Color rose in her cheeks and she had to make a few more "arrgg" noises and stomp around before she was ready to set off.

"He'll lose it all," she fretted as they passed by brightly-lit inns and teahouses with lanterns hanging invitingly in front of the paper screens. "I know he will. He'll come back _owing_ money."

"I have faith in his inherent ability to rip people off," answered Jin.

Fuu made a noise through her noise which strayed somewhere between disapproval and amusement, like one has at the punch line of a very crude joke.

It took them less than half an hour to become hopelessly lost within the city. Every street looked like the next, narrow dirt with tall buildings pressing in on either side. Or rather, "building," since most blocks only had one massive structure that had been divided into multiple shops with apartments above them. There were vendors everywhere, whom Jin and Fuu ignored like pros. There were maids and delivery boys running in the gutters, and more distinguished citizens strolling along in embroidered kimonos, arm in arm, sometimes holding umbrellas or fans. Occasionally they passed a garden or fountain. Fuu tried to remember these as landmarks, but they took so many turns that soon she was unsure whether they were a block away from where they'd started, or whether they'd crossed the entire breadth of the city.

She and Jin paused for a moment to get their bearings when, over the noise of the city's traffic, they heard a very clear number of giggles.

Jin's body didn't move, but his head turned. He looked like a deer that raises its head from grazing and turns toward where it suspects a hungry wolf might be. Fuu leaned her whole body over and craned her neck to see around Jin like a curious child peering around its mother.

A cart passed by them, blocking the other side of the street. But once it had left they discovered the source of the giggling; sitting in a garden, nestled between two shops and protected from the street by a low fence, were five geisha sitting around a low table drinking tea. Their faces were painted white, but their lips were startling red; their hair was piled up on their heads and their kimono were so bright that Fuu's might as well have been gray. Not only were each a different color—deep blue, pale green, emperor's purple, gold, and baby blue—but each showed a fantastic scene. The dark blue one, for example, had fireflies all over; the pale green one had flop-eared rabbits grazing on it; the gold one showed autumn leaves trailing down a cliff, a small temple nestled in the background. The magnificent view portrayed by each made Fuu feel worse about her own clothes, which, she was suddenly aware, hadn't been washed in well over a week.

The geisha were all giggling helplessly as girls, even though the youngest (sky blue with lily pads) was twenty-three, and the oldest (purple, a sunset over the mountains) was well over thirty.

"Let's go," said Fuu in disgust, turning away. But Jin stayed rooted to the spot. "Hey!"

He strode over in long, even strides, hand balanced loosely on the edge of his sword. Fuu followed reluctantly. Jin hopped over the low iron fence that separated the garden from the street with the elegance of a skilled dancer. Fuu barely cleared it, and at one point her obi got caught. (The obi of the geisha were multiple colors, interwoven with designs and beads that matched their kimono.) Gold and Purple laughed at her, and she hurried after Jin feeling very cross.

Jin didn't say anything when he stopped in front of them, but bowed. The geisha all laughed; four stood and bowed back. The one in gold bowed while still kneeling, prompting more laughter and even a small smile from Jin himself.

"May I be of any service?" he asked politely.

"Oh, yes," said the one in pale green. She covered her mouth with a small, delicate hand; her eyes twinkled with mischief. "My friend here, Satsu…"

"Oh, don't!" squealed Baby Blue, presumably Satsu.

All the girls tittered, and pale green continued, "She wants to know how long your sword is."

They all collapsed into a pile of mirth. Fuu rolled her eyes with impatient and poorly hidden revolt. She tugged Jin's sleeve gently, but he acted like he didn't notice her. In fact, he didn't seem to notice anything at all; he had a broad smirk across his face that Fuu had never seen before.

"You can see for yourself," he said, unsheathing his weapon. The girls all gave squeaks of fake fear; he held the sword out to them.

"Can I touch it?" asked the gold one sweetly. The rest of the geisha laughed.

"Certainly," said Jin. "But be careful. It's sharp, and I often think it has a mind of its own. You see, it never seems content unless it's penetrated a certain number of people every week…"

The girls howled. Fuu groaned. "Oh, come _on_!" she said, yanking Jin's sleeve. For the first time, the geisha noticed her, although not very kindly.

"Oh look. We've been so busy stroking this man's sword, we've neglected our manners," said the purple one. "Who's your little friend?"

"This is Fuu," said Jin dismissively; Sky Blue had put her hands on his shoulder and was leaning over him, fondling his sword in what was a deeply erotic metaphor.

"Your… sister?" guessed Dark Blue.

"No, just a friend," said Jin mildly, who was now showing off the beads around his wrist to Pale Green and Sky Blue.

"And now that you've introduce her, she can introduce you," proposed Purple brightly. All five turned expectantly to Fuu. She sighed and gave in. "His name's Jin," she mumbled.

"Jin!" they all chorused, batting their eyelashes at him. "And we're… Satsu, Tsutami, Kiosai, Kiokame, and Kiochiri!"

Fuu looked from one to the next trying to remember these names. She knew already that Sky Blue was Satsu, and thought Pale Green was Tsutami, but the other three were virtually impossible to tell apart. Pale Green and Sky Blue were the youngest, Jin's age, but looked much younger, like Fuu's twin sisters. The elder three, by contrast, looked far older than they were. Under her pasty make-up, the purple one had wrinkles in the corners of her eyes; she and the gold one looked like old women trying to pretend they were children, and Fuu didn't think they were very pretty at all. The dark blue one said very little and kept her head down most of the time; her personality pointed out how out of place she really was.

"Jin…" pleaded Fuu. She already knew it was futile. Jin had finally knelt comfortably between Satsu and Tsutami, the two clinging to each arm like dogs to a bone. He was obviously enjoying himself.

Fuu flopped onto her knees next to Dark Blue in a huff.

"I wonder what service we've done Fate, for her to drop such a handsome samurai into our laps?" asked Satsu sweetly.

"If he in your lap already? Well, I always said you were indecent," said Gold. They all giggled like hyenas.

"I don't think it was you who did Fate a service," said Jin once the laughter had died down. "It's not every day I attract the attentions of five beautiful women." He bowed his head in Purple's direction (Purple was the oldest and had a haughty expression that implied she was the leader of the operation). She bowed back.

"Oh, don't you?" asked Gold, leaning over Pale Green in an effort to pour Jin a drink. "I'm shocked, such a gorgeous man like you, receiving so little attention!"

Jin looked flattered; perhaps even a little overwhelmed. He bowed his head again with a sheepish smile, unable to find the words. Fuu groaned. Dark Blue poured her a drink.

"And look at these eyes!" exclaimed Sky Blue, gently pulling off Jin's glasses. "No wonder he hides them; they would make any girl swoon in the streets."

"Haven't you ever seen a samurai with glasses before?" teased Jin.

"Yes, only one. He comes here weekly, but he's not nearly so lovely as you…"

"Jin," whined Fuu. "We've got to go."

"Go where?" asked Jin irritably. Well, of course he didn't want to go, though Fuu. Pale Green was stroking his ponytail and Sky Blue was still holding his face. Both were practically lying on top of him. Gold had a mischievous look (Fuu had already figured out that she guarded against her old age by being a crude, suggestive trouble-maker) and Purple kept refilling his cup. Only Dark Blue seemed to be in agreement with Fuu about leaving.

"We've got to go... before you spend all of our money!" said Fuu quickly. She hoped Jin, who was usually a very reasonable person, would realize the geisha were only trying to cheat him out of everything he could possible have by showing him with compliments.

"Oh, no!" exclaimed Purple quickly. "We'll treat both of you ourselves, for the honor of having a meal with Jin-sama."

"Jin-sama?" asked Fuu in disgust, hoping Jin would see what a ridiculous situation they were in. But he wasn't looking at her; his eyes were half-closed and he was practically purring while Satsu and Tsutami stroked him, occasionally giving a little shivery shake of his ponytail like a horse swishing its tail.

Fuu tried, in vain, to point out that they should be going; but Jin only asked "Where, Fuu? Where?" Finally she stopped trying and brooded, while Jin and the five geisha talked. He told them about his fighting; they told him about the city and the surrounding area.

"It's a shame you weren't here in the spring," said the one in purple. "All the trees are in bloom then, it really is magnificent. The cherry trees and peach trees are so heavily laden with blossoms…" she sighed.

"Peach trees?" repeated Jin in what Fuu felt as a very distracted tone. "Hm." He reached up and rubbed his chin, as if he were thinking of something. The geisha noticed too.

"What are you thinking, Jin-sama?" asked the pale green one sweetly.

"Oh, nothing," he said.

"Tell us," insisted Sky Blue.

Jin's mouth twitched oddly, like he was trying to force a smile and not really succeeding. He lowered his head so his hair came over his eyes and mumbled: "Without a word remaining between us, with a sharp knife she cuts the soft yellow peach to the ragged bloody core."

"Oo," said all five geisha at once.

"I had no idea you were a poet," said the green one.

"I'm not," replied Jin hastily, looking sheepish in a way Fuu had never thought possible for him. She decided to take advantage of it.

"Jin," she said in a hurry. "We've been here ages, and it's been really nice and all, but we've got to meet Mugen, and it'll take us a while to find our way back."

"We can help you!" said Satsu quickly.

"Oh, no, that really won't be necessary…"

But too late; they were already leading Jin out. He strutted down the street proudly with one on each arm; the other three came after him, giggling; Fuu brought up the rear, scowling. She was glad to see Mugen scowl as well when he saw them.

"Hey, I've been out working hard and earning money! What're you doing, you bastard? You've been out messing with girls! Fuu!"

"It's not _my_ fault!" cried Fuu.

"Jin-san hasn't messed with us at all," said Sky Blue.

"Not yet," said Gold.

"And what's your name, cutie?" added Dark Blue.

"Mugen. If you'll excuse us…" He peeled Jin away from Sky Blue and Pale Green, who gave cute little groans of disappointment. "Man, what's with you?"

"You said you wanted to find girls. I found some," said Jin.

"First of all, I told you to let _me_ find them. Besides, those are the _wrong kind_. Those are _geisha_, not whores! We don't have enough money for them and couldn't fuck them anyways!"

"But they're nice."

"You only think they're nice because they keep talking about how big your sword is," snapped Fuu.

Mugen choked and had to turn away for a moment. Jin looked pleased with himself.

"Get out of here!" yelled Mugen to the five geisha. All five protested. It took Mugen—crude as he was—a full ten minutes to scatter them, and four managed to slip Jin cards before they hurried away making faces at Mugen.

Mugen rubbed the thin, short hairs on his upper lip (he was the only person who thought it was a mustache; according to the rest of the world, he needed more than a dozen hairs to call it a mustache) and scratched his head. "Well, I got the money," he said.

Fuu looked disappointed that he'd proved her wrong.

"A grand total of thirty-six momne. That's… um…"

"Twelve per person," said Jin. Mugen looked up from counting on his fingers.

"Yeah, okay, twelve. I asked around for the cheapest district, and it's _that _way." He stood on the tips of his feet and pointed over Jin's head, to the city's left.

"Cheap district for… food, right?" asked Fuu.

"Food, girls, whatever."

"Mugen, I don't think it's a good—"

"Shut up." He threw his arm around Jin again. Jin winced. "We'll have plenty left over. We can always earn more. How often do we have these opportunities?"

"Kindly remove your arm from my shoulders."

"Aww, lighten up, Jin-chan."

"If you _ever_ call me that again, I will _kill_ you," murmured Jin. And he clearly meant it. Fuu didn't understand why he was suddenly bristling. The geisha had been flirting with him for ages, saying all sorts of ridiculous things, and he'd been hanging on their every word. And now he was suddenly ready to kill someone just because of a dumb nickname.

"Whatever."

Mugen steered them along the city's borders. The path they were on grew cracked and eventually turned to dust. The buildings were lower, more crowded, and in disrepair. He dragged them into the first restaurant he saw.

"What's a guy gotta do to get some squid guts around here?" he yelled.

"Why do we keep him around again?" asked Fuu, burying her face into her kimono sleeves. (She didn't want to touch the stained wooden table directly.)

"He gets us squid guts," said Jin, taking a steaming bowl from a busty waitress and passing it to her. Mugen gave her a slap when she turned.

"Ahh. This is my kind of town," he said, leaning back in his chair and propping his feet on the table.

"I can't eat with your feet in front of me…"

"Sheesh, grow up, man."

Fuu had to admit, for all of Mugen's faults, he got what they needed. They left with money to spare, and full stomachs. It was late afternoon. Mugen cast an eager eye around the city. Jin looked disdainfully at the dust settling on the bottom of his hakama.

"Can we meet you here tomorrow morning?" asked Mugen.

"What? You're just leaving me?" cried Fuu.

"Here's half the money, okay? Don't get kidnapped or anything."

"But—"

"Nope, not listening!" said Mugen loudly. He grabbed the sleeve of Jin's kimono and led him away. She watched them disappear down an alleyway, and groaned in frustration before making her own way into the heart of the city to see the sights.


	4. Chapter Three: Changing Directions

AUTHOR'S NOTE: The song Mugen sings is borrowed from "Sterkarm Handshake," a very awesome book which you should go read instead of this mediocre story. Although, from this point on, it does get better. Plus, Jin gets a rash!

CHAPTER THREE

"Hmm. These guys look tasty."

"Those aren't for eating."

"Then what's the point?"

Mugen was talking with a street vendor who had small boxes that contained colorful tropical fish. He put his nose against a huge glass tank, his distorted eyes following a plump yellow one, his mouth open a little. Jin was deep in conversation with another man.

"Jin, are you gonna buy a fish or what? We've been here forever."

Jin dismissed him with a wave of his hand, and went back to talking in a low voice. Mugen took a few steps to the side and listened.

"…no pierced ears, but they could have grown back. You don't see many samurai with glasses."

"And you're certain he was of the Mujuushin-ken school?"

"Yep, positive. We almost never see any 'round here."

"Hmm…" Jin turned away to think, spotted Mugen listening, and narrowed his eyes. He thanked the man and walked over to Mugen. "I'm ready to leave."

"What were you talking about?" asked Mugen eagerly as he and Jin walked down the road.

"Nothing," said Jin.

"Come on, I'm not stupid."

"Really? I always thought you were."

"What were you talking about?"

"Nothing."

Mugen scowled, then his face lit up. He grabbed Jin by the neck of his kimono and pulled him into an alley. They crossed it (Jin had to lift his hakama to keep from dragging cloth through puddles of muddy water) and stopped in the middle of the next street over.

"Ta-da!" proclaimed Mugen, spreading his arms wide. A low building with impressive eaves stood in front of them. It was well-lit; silhouettes moves in front of the screens. It was nicer than any other building on the street. Two girls were standing out front, their kimono draped down to reveal pale, thin shoulders.

"Can I pick them, or what? Come on, man." Still dragging Jin by the back of his kimono, he waked boldly into the brothel, apparently unaware that Jin was choking. Inside was a wide, well-lit hall, filled mostly with girls, though a few men sat talking with a group at low tables, drinks in front of them.

"Hi," said a girl breathlessly, hurrying up and bowing low. "My name is Kura. Can I help you?"

"I bet you can!" said Mugen. "Jin needs to get laid." He tugged Jin in front of him, like he was showing a dog.

"I don't—" gasped Jin, rubbing his neck, but Kura cut him off.

"It would be my pleasure," she said sweetly, putting an arm around his waist and placing a hand on his chest. His eyes widened a little as her hand slipped into his kimono.

"And what's _your_ name?" Mugen asked a small, giggly girl waiting next to him.

"I'm Hana." She batted her eyelashes at him; he grinned hungrily.

"Mugen!" gasped Jin, who was being dragged away in almost exactly the same way he'd been dragged forward.

"Have fun!" yelled Mugen after him.

* * *

Fuu kept to the wide, well-lit streets as the sun set on the big city. She was feeling a bit overwhelmed, being all alone in the huge crowds that jostled her, like a leaf in rapids. 

"I'll never forgive them!" she grouched under his breath. "Leaving me here all alone… jerks, both of them…" She stopped suddenly; a huge sign with a sunflower on it advertised: "HAVE YOU'RE FORTUNE TOLD." Although she wasn't impressed with the grammar, the flower definitely caught her eye. The sign was sitting over a small tent. Fuu ducked down into the tent, pushing aside the cloth flaps, and immediately began coughing in the heavily scented air.

"I—like—your—sign," she choked out as she coughed.

"Oh, do you?" came a low, eerie voice from the back of the tent. "Come here, daughter."

Fuu groped her way to the back of the tent and found herself sitting across a very small table from a woman who was very old, very fat, and had more beads, bangles, and sequins than the rest of Japan put together. "Why's there a sunflower on it?" she demanded.

"That?" she asked dismissively. "My little granddaughter drew it. She's four."

"Oh," said Fuu disappointedly.

"Are you here to unravel the mysteries of the future?"

"Actually, I just wanted to ask about your sign."

The woman pretended not to hear her, and grabbed her hand, examining the lines there through huge, thick glasses.

"Are you traveling somewhere?" she asked.

"Yes."

"Do you have companions? Two?"

"Yes."

"Both men. One wise beyond his years, and the other…" Her mystic voice paused while she searched for a word.

"Rude? Crude? Completely and utterly piggish?" volunteered Fuu.

"Less wise," said the fortune teller. "Hmmm." She peered even closer, so close that her long nose nearly touched Fuu's hand. "Interesting… very interesting…"

"What? What?" asked Fuu, standing up partially and craning her neck to see her own palm.

The fortune teller shook her head. "There are many things written here." She gave Fuu a very significant look.

"Oh no!" groaned Fuu. "I can't give you all my money!"

"A few coins in exchange for invaluable knowledge is a very fair trade," said the fortune teller, sounding sad because of Fuu's folly. Fuu groaned in frustration (it seemed like she was doing that a lot more lately), but pulled out three coins.

"That's all I have, okay? Now tell me what it says!"

"I'll give you three pieces of advice, one for each coin," said the fortune teller, slipping the gold up her sleeve.

"They better be good ones," muttered Fuu, who thought unraveling the mysteries of the future was far too expensive.

"First… one of your companions must guard himself. Just as the color red brings violence, and rain brings sorrow, so he must beware water and red."

"Red water?"

"Water _and_ red. Second, for your black-haired companion…"

"Jin."

"He will be gravely injured—"

"What? Are you sure you're reading it right?" demanded Fuu. The fortune teller held up a heavily-ringed finger for silence, and continued:

"Once he is gravely injured, he must be returned to the last place he set foot in _at once_, or he will die."

"Okay…" mumbled Fuu uncertainly.

"And the last piece of advice, for yourself. You will find what you're searching for through your friends. Do not leave them under any circumstances. You will find their relationship trying…"

"I already find it trying," muttered Fuu, thinking of all the times Mugen and Jin had tried to kill each other.

"But you must let their journeys guide your own," finished the forture teller.

"Could you go back to that red water thing?" asked Fuu.

The fortune teller held out a hand for more money. Fuu snorted and left, feeling more than a bit cheated. The fortune-teller only smirked.

* * *

She heard him before she saw him. 

"Ohhhh… pleasant thoughts come to mind as I turn back the silk sheets so fine, and her two white breasts are standing so, like sweet pink roses that bloom in snow. La la la la la…"

Fuu crossed her arms and tapped her foot with disapproval as Mugen and Jin turned out of an alley and walked toward her. Mugen's singing was so loud, birds fluttered off of roofs and a few people put their heads out the window to yell at him to shut up, because it was only dawn, the lousy drunk. Mugen ignored them; he had a look of exhausted satisfaction and wandered toward Fuu with a stupid grin on his face, dragging along Jin. Jin had a ruffled, dazed, wide-eyed look.

"Hiya, Fuu!" said Mugen happily. "Have a good night?"

"No," she snapped.

"We did! Huh, Jin?" He punched Jin's arm.

"I had no idea women were so bendy," said Jin in amazement.

"I told you, the cheap ones are the best, they know all the tricks… _what_?"

Fuu rolled her eyes and glared. "How much did you spend?"

"We have some left over. I'll admit I spent a little more than I meant… but, man, Jin needed it… I'd say it was money well-spent. Right, Jin? Jin?"

"I didn't know such things were possible," said Jin, sounding bewildered.

"See, he learned something! Money well spent." Mugen gave a firm nod.

"How much is left?" hissed Fuu.

"Erm… one coin, maybe. But Fuu!" he protested as she glared at him. "You have no idea, the kind of things those chicks could do! Tell her, Jin!"

"I think I have a rash now," said Jin weakly.

"Okay, way, way too much information. Give me whatever you have left, before you buy something stupid…"

"You buy anything?" asked Mugen, as he turned the money over.

"No."

"Great! So we still have plenty left for breakfast."

"Erm… not exactly…"

"But… we should have lots left."

"I spent a little…" admitted Fuu.

Mugen smirked. "Looks like you're a hypocrite, huh?"

"I'm surprised you know that word," sneered Fuu.

"I get called one all the time," he said dismissively. "Let's get some more money, buy breakfast, and get out of here. C'mon, Jin. Jin? Geez, wake up, will you?" He grabbed Jin's sleeve and pulled him away. Fuu followed them, shaking her head.

* * *

By noon, they had doubled the little money they had left and used the last of it to buy breakfast from a street vendor. They went through the city, Mugen yawning and rubbing his eyes, and Jin looking just a little bit less dazed. 

"There's a city north-east of here," he told Fuu.

"We're not going that way, though," said Fuu simply, hurrying along. "We're going west."

"It's the best route to take," he insisted. He took long strides to keep up with her, his hand on his swords. Mugen meandered after them more slowly, yawning happily.

"Look, I really don't want to see any more cities for a while."

"We have to!"

Fuu stopped and turned to look at Jin. "_Why_?"

"Because," said Jin. Fuu cocked an eyebrow. "Because!" he repeated.

"Because what? What're we talking about?" asked Mugen blearily, catching up to them.

"Jin wants to go to some city north-east of here."

"Alright! Score! More sleazy woman!" cheered Mugen. Fuu glared at Jin, to ask what he'd started.


	5. Chapter Four: Blood and Water

CHAPTER FOUR

"I can't believe we're going to another city," mumbled Fuu under her breath. She had kept up a continual stream of angry muttering since they'd left the city and begun walking down the dirt road to the next one. The trees were thin and they saw small thatched huts between fields.

"Mm-hm," murmured Mugen sleepily.

"Stupid cities. Crowded… dirty…"

"Mmm-hm."

"Bunch of jerks…"

"Yeah."

"Can't believe I let him talk me into…" Fuu stopped dead in her tracks. Mugen slammed into her from behind.

"Hey, watch it!"

"Why'd you stop?"

"Jin. Where'd he go?"

Mugen blinked in surprise and looked around. "Oh… he's over there, talking to some chick."

"Arrgg, Mugen, he wasn't like this before he met you!" Fuu left the path and began jogging up the field, where Jin and a young peasant woman were talking intensely.

"So he's stopped acting queer, what's wrong with that?" demanded Mugen, running after her. "And it's not just me, I mean, he fucked around before. He just hid it. It's all an act. I could pretend to be all proper and perfect if I wanted—"

Fuu snorted, picking up the hem of her kimono to hop over a bushy plant.

"—but see, I'm honest with you," finished Mugen. Fuu just rolled her eyes as she approached Jin.

"…passes every week, and comes back with his laundry and a few geisha—" The peasant girl broke off suddenly when Fuu and Mugen came up behind Jin. Jin didn't move.

"The same day?" he asked, as if Fuu and Mugen weren't peering over his shoulders. Fuu looked curious. Mugen had one-eyebrow raised in a look of incredulous disgust, possibly at the flat chest of the girl Jin was talking to.

"Yes, always. He went to the city yesterday."

"So he'll be back on this road today?" asked Jin anxiously. He suddenly looked like he was going to lunge at her.

"Y-yes," she said falteringly. She gave Fuu a panicked glance. Fuu took that as her cue to intervene.

"Jin, what're you talking about? What's going on? Who are you talking about?" she demanded. He ignored her; she reached up and tugged his ponytail. He whipped around and slapped her across the face. She nearly fell; Mugen caught her.

"_Don't_ touch my hair!" he barked.

"Fuck, man, are you crazy?" shouted Mugen.

"Why'd you do that?" yelled Fuu, holding her bruised cheek. Jin was already stalking away down the field, leaving the peasant girl looking worried.

"Are you okay?" she asked, reaching out to help Fuu, and then thinking better of it and clutching her hoe anxiously.

"What was he talking about?" demanded Fuu.

"I—I don't know," she said. "I mean, I know!" she said quickly, as Fuu began to yell again, "but I don't know what it means!"

"What'd he say?" shouted Mugen and Fuu.

"He was asking about a samurai in glasses!" said the peasant, nearly in tears. "He said he heard from a man in the city that there's a samurai in glasses around here and he comes into the city from this way, and wanted to know if I'd seen him pass by, and I said yes, he comes into the city down this road every week with his laundry! I don't know anything else, I swear!"

"A samurai in glasses," repeated Mugen slowly. He reached up to rub the rough stubble on his upper lip.

"Come on!" commanded Fuu. She turned away and ran down the field with the long cloth of her kimono fluttering after her. Mugen ran too, his geta banging on the rough ground. Jin was striding down the path as if he hadn't a care in the world.

"Yo, you fuckhead!" yelled Mugen, clutching a stitch in his side. "What's with you? Hey, you stupid son of a bitch! Stop ignoring us, asshole! What's going on?"

Jin stopped dead in the center of the path. Fuu and Mugen stopped behind him, panting and clutching their sides. Jin turned his head slightly and said, apparently to a tree, "I'm sorry I hit you."

"Jin… who… what…" gasped Fuu. She rubbed her cheek self-consciously, and demanded, "Who are you looking for? The samurai in glasses?"

"I think we should set up camp," said Jin calmly.

"_What_? It's still morning! And you didn't answer me! _Jin_!"

"I'm setting up camp," said Jin, turning off the road.

Fuu and Mugen exchanged helpless glances. They went after Jin with a barrage of questions, but he acted like he couldn't hear them; he gathered wood, built a fire, and sat down and smoked without a word. Twice, he stood in the middle of what he was doing and went out to the road. Both times, peasants passed, looking a bit apprehensive under Jin's angry eyes following them. But once they passed, he went back to whatever he'd been doing as if there was no interruption at all.

"You're an asshole!" said Mugen finally.

"It's the middle of the afternoon, and it's going to rain, and we could be at the next city already if you weren't being so stubborn," added Fuu in one breath. She had to take a moment to breathe before she began ranting again: "And you can't even bother to tell us what's going on and you're ignoring us and being really—"

Jin stood up.

Fuu stopped, then twisted around. She was sitting on the ground, legs curled up under her. Mugen, who was sitting on a rock across from her, looked up. Jin was staring intently down the road.

"What is it?" asked Fuu. But she already heard it: hooves.

Jin put his hand on his sword and walked away without a word. Fuu and Mugen exchanged glances again. They followed, but kept to the edge of the path. Jin crossed the road and stood with his legs apart and his hand on the hilt of his katana, ready to watch the next peasant pass.

"This is so dumb," griped Fuu.

"I think he's lost it. Seriously, I think it's too much. You've made him go crazy."

"_Me_? You're the one who dragged him to the brothel, he's been acting funny ever since—" Fuu stopped. Jin had left the side of the road and planted himself firmly in the middle of the road, blocking the path of a cart. At first, all Fuu saw was the funny-looking donkey pulling it; she was wearing a straw hat with holes cut out for his ears and chewing lazily. Fuu turned to Mugen to ask if he thought the donkey was funny too, but Mugen was staring wide-eyed at the driver with his mouth dangling open. She turned back and at first thought she was seeing double.

The man sitting holding the reins was a samurai. His kimono, obi, and hakama were identical to Jin's; his black hair was pulled into a small, neat ponytail; and oddest of all, he had glasses that were very, very familiar. His clothes were cleaner and their colors brighter, and his ponytail was perfectly even, but they were still so close to Jin's that Fuu wondered if they were related. But the other samurai didn't have a Takeda mon. Besides, his jaw was a little heavier, his features harder and somehow older, even though they were the same age. He looked like someone who might have torn wings off flies as a child for fun. Fuu decided they weren't related at all.

"It's been years," he said simply. His voice was deep and raspy.

"Many years," confirmed Jin.

He sighed and hopped out of the cart. He took the donkey's halter and steered him over to the side of the road, talking as he did so. "You look good, Jin. Still just as pretty as I remember. Guess there's nothing you could do about that, eh?" Fuu saw Jin's grip on his sword tighten until his knuckles were white. Meanwhile, the other samurai gave his donkey a pat and then approached Jin, leaving a generous space between them.

"I knew this day would come," he said, fingering his own sword without concern. "Actually, I'm surprised it didn't come sooner. But then, you've always been a coward."

"I'm not the one who ran away," growled Jin, pulling his sword.

"We _both_ ran away. We're kindred spirits, Jin." He laughed like it was the funniest thing he'd ever said, then stopped suddenly, his face hardened. It was scary how cruel he looked. He certainly didn't look like anyone who would put a hat on a donkey.

"Alright, I want to know what's going on _right now_!" screeched Fuu.

There was a pregnant pause. Jin and the other samurai's ponytails fluttered in the wind, and a roll of thunder murmured. A couple raindrops fell.

"Brought friends?" asked the other samurai finally, stretching to see around Jin. He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "A pretty little... girl, huh? I'm surprised. Did you pick her up by accident, Jin?"

Jin's eyes narrowed. "Take out your sword."

"Still won't fight a defenseless man, huh? Still need your swords, huh? That's fine by me, Jin." He pulled his own swords. "I've been practicing too, you know. Give me your best."

Jin lunged; the other samurai jerked away; and suddenly all Fuu could see was the two of them slashing and blocking. It was like watching Jin fight his reflection; both were so fast and so furious that she couldn't keep them straight. They would turn, switching places, their kimono a whirlwind of identical cloth, and Fuu wouldn't even realize it; their kimono were perfect matches except for the mon, so when they stopped, it took her a moment to figure out who was who and by then they'd moved again. She would feel her breath catch when one jumped to avoid the downward sweep of a blade, then wonder which one had jumped; and then, they had moves and switched places again… and again… and again. She began feeling dizzy.

"Damn!" yelped Mugen, who was swaying on the spot as he followed the fight. One slashed down; the blur of silver stopped abruptly with a harsh clang, then there was another flash; one of them jumped, the other twisted, there was another series of flashes, and suddenly a sword went flying. Fuu ducked, covering her head with her hands; the sword landed behind her, sliding in the muddy road. Rain pattered down.

The two had temporarily separated, panting. Jin's ponytail hung limp and dripping; he was holding two swords. The other man's was so evenly cut, that aside from looking shiny, the wetness had not altered it at all; he held one sword.

"Not bad, Jin," he said. Suddenly he threw his other sword at Jin. Jin knocked it away easily. The samurai grinned and spread his arms. "Defenseless again! What're you doing to do now?"

Jin tossed him a sword.

"Stop being so honorable, dumbass!" yelled Mugen.

"Shut up!" hissed Fuu. "We don't even know what's happening!"

"So what? Do you want him to die?"

"No, but—"

"Remember that time we fought in the dojo, Jin?" asked the other samurai. He and Jin were circling like dogs. He was hunched, like a hyena; Jin walked straight, in perfect form, as usual.

"Yes," said Jin.

"Swords aren't wooden this time, are they?" The other samurai suddenly darted the other way. Jin countered his move. He darted back and flew at Jin. There was a series of silver slashes so fast Fuu didn't know what she was seeing; the billowing clothes and heavy rain didn't improve her vision. Mugen yelled and jumped up and down with each swipe; he, at least, seemed to be able to follow what was happening, and occasionally barked out commands: "Right! Left! Right! Down! _Down_!"

Then, suddenly, there was a squall like a cat with its tail being trodden on and the slashes ended; both samurai fell over, rolling in the mud. Fuu thought the yell was from the other man; she'd never heard Jin make any sound even remotely like that. But then she saw it had been him, after all; the other samurai had abandoned his form and was tugging on Jin's ponytail like he intended to rip it out of his head, biting the hand that held his sword, kicking and forcing Jin's face into the mud. And Jin, who hated to break any rules, fought back with equal violence. He tore at the other man's clothes, clawing and yelling and kicking as well. They might have been dogs; neither one was even using his sword anymore.

"Shit!" cried Mugen. "Kill him, man! Kill him!"

Jin had managed to get on top of the other man, even though moments earlier he'd been on bottom; with both hands, one still gripping his sword, he shoved the man's face in the mud. A few bubbles came up; Fuu shrieked.

"You're killing him!" she yelled in horror.

"You're killing him!" cheered Mugen.

There was a flash of silver from the other man's sword, and Jin had to jerk back to avoid it, letting go of the samurai's head. The samurai twisted, rolling onto his back and coughing up mud; Jin was rising; with a well-aimed kick, he caught Jin in the crotch. Jin fell over and the other man slashed, still half-lying down. Jin rolled out of the way; the second swing caught. Fuu screamed, even though she wasn't sure where he'd been hit or how bad it was. She heard Jin let out a strangled yell, more of rage than pain, and in another slash the first samurai darted away, clutching his face. Blood oozed thick between his fingers.

Jin tried to stand up, but his right leg buckled under him. For a moment he stayed in the mud on his hands and knees, panting, head hanging down with water dripping from his hair. The other samurai grinned, his face twisting into an even crueler leer.

"This is it," he said, circling Jin.

"Go ahead, then," hissed Jin. "Kill me." The grip on his sword tightened. The other samurai's eyes darted back and forth, calculating; if he got close enough to kill, Jin would lash out and take him with him.

At this point Fuu intervened. "Stop it!" she yelled.

"Fuu, you bitch!" Mugen swiped at her, but she'd already run out to Jin and jumped in front of him. The samurai looked shocked. Mugen hurried up next to her. He'd lost a geta in the mud on the way.

"Well," said the samurai. He smiled. "I see why you've got these two, now. One to protect you, and one to fuck you. Good deal, Jin." He slung his sword over his back casually. "But I wasn't going to kill you. You know that. After all… there's worse things than death."

He walked around them, pausing to smirk at Jin. Jin lunged, still on his hands and knees; he nearly caught the other man, too, but he jumped back just in the nick of time. He laughed. "Really, it's been nice playing, Jin. But I've got to go. My donkey, she's getting wet."

He spat at Jin, then went to his donkey without a word. The animal was standing just where he'd left it, droopy-eyed and unconcerned, like its master got into fights every day. (He did.)

Jin rose again; his leg buckled. Mugen and Fuu grabbed him. He struggled to get away, unburdened by the fact that he couldn't walk. The other samurai disappeared quickly in the sheets of rain; but still Jin struggled.

"Stop it, you stupid bastard!" yelled Mugen. Jin gave a strangled yell of reply. He was completely beyond words, and fighting with them tooth and nail. Literally. Mugen got kicked a few times and bitten on the hand; Fuu was elbowed and shoved.

"You're hurt!" she told him, but he didn't care; he wrestled with every last ounce of strength, and it was all they could do to hold him.

"Hold him!" commanded Mugen, suddenly letting go of Jin's arm.

"WHAT?" shouted Fuu. Jin turned on her and the two collapsed in the mud, rolling around and clawing at each other's faces. Mugen slid out his sword and swung. Fuu screamed when Jin went limp on top of her.

"You killed him! You killed him!"

"Fuu! Shut the hell up, okay? He's not dead. Look!" He grabbed her elbow and yanked her up roughly, then showed her Jin's head. "I just knocked him out, okay? I had to, he was going berserk. I used the flat part of the blade. He'll be okay."

"He's dying," wailed Fuu.

"Shut up, okay? Just shut up!"

For a moment, she thought Mugen was going to hit her; she fell silent immediately. Both took a deep breath, then turned to look at Jin. He looked like a heap of wet, muddy clothes lying in the middle of the street.

"He got hit, didn't he?" asked Mugen.

"Yeah."

"Did you see where?"

"No."

They knelt and sat him up. His head lolled drunkenly, his glasses slightly askew. Fuu ran her fingers over his kimono and arms, looking for cuts; her hand slid down to the leg that had been unable to support his weight and went "oh!"

"What? What is it?" asked Mugen, dropping Jin. He grabbed him just before he hit the mud again, then craned his neck toward the wound. Fuu showed him; she pulled back the flap that had been formed in Jin's hakama by his own sword, revealing a deep gash that was pumping blood out furiously.

"Whoa. That's bad," said Mugen.

Fuu pushed her hands against it, but the blood kept coursing out. She could feel Jin's pulse from it; within a minute her hands were warm and slick with blood.

"It's not working!" she cried, looking up. "What'd we do?"

"Why are you asking me? Do I look like a doctor? Do I look like I'm fucking enlightened or something? Do I look like a fortune teller? I don't fucking know what to do!"

Fuu stared into the rain for a moment and mouthed the words, "fortune teller." Then she turned slowly and looked at Mugen.

"We have to take him back to the city."

"The city!" cried Mugen. "But that's over an hour from here!"

"It's all we can do! Help me pick him up!"

Mugen heaved Jin up and threw him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. He wobbled after Fu in the mud, his steps sliding over the slippery road, unsteady. Fuu led the way. The rain fell even harder. She tried to comfort herself; at least they were close, very close to the city. It wasn't as if they were already more than halfway down the road. And Jin's only injury was his leg—and the possible concussion Mugen had given him.

"Where are we taking him?" grunted Mugen.

Fuu thought for a moment before she said, slowly, "Do you know the way to that brothel you guys were at last night?"

Mugen slipped on the ground and nearly fell over. "The _brothel_? You want to takehim to a brothel?"

"Well… we don't have any money for the hospital!" snapped Fuu.

Mugen mumbled something, but he didn't protest further. Jin was heavy and it was difficult to carry him in the rain. Every few minutes, he threatened to drop him, but Fuu learned to ignore it, and instead looked anxiously for the lanterns that would tell them they were entering the city. She nearly cried when she saw them, and was glad it was raining. She turned around. Mugen's face was streaked with rain too; she wondered if he was worried. He looked worried.

"I'm going to drop him," he said.

"We're nearly there," said Fuu.

This time, Mugen meant it; he dropped Jin. Fuu helped heave him back up. This time, Mugen took him in his arms for a better grip. Jin almost looked like he was sleeping. At least, that's what Fuu told herself.

"It's on the other side of the city," grunted Mugen, leading Fuu through the empty streets. Everyone had gone inside already; they met only two people, who hurried past with their heads ducked against the rain.


	6. Chapter Five: Blood & Water, part 2

(Author's Note: This chapter contains a random reference to Lord Byron. No, I will never edit that part out. I like Lord Byron too much.)

CHAPTER FIVE

Mugen and Fuu burst into the brothel from the street, spraying rain and mud everywhere. Several people cried out in surprise and rose. The Madame of the house came sweeping up to them indignantly.

"What is the meaning of this?" she demanded.

"Please, he's hurt!" gasped Fuu.

"We're customers! I mean, we_ were_ customers!" added Mugen.

"And he's bleeding!"

"We were here last night!"

"I won't stand for this nonsense! Get out this instant!" shouted the matron.

"He'll die!" cried Fuu.

"It's true!" yelled one of the women suddenly. She rose from the table where she'd been talking with a man and hurried up to them. She was young, only one or two years older than Fuu, and had a petit, worrisome look that reminded Fuu of birds in the fall, hopping around looking for seeds for winter. "I was with him last night," she said. Fuu was sure she was blushing under the white makeup smeared on her face.

"Kura!" said the matron in a highly indignant tone. It was a basic rule that the women weren't supposed to speak of other men, particularly while entertaining a new one.

"Please," begged Fuu. The matron looked at Fuu, who looked even younger because of her wet hair and clothes, and her big, watery eyes. She looked at Jin, unconscious, his leg dripping with blood. Then she considered the patrons there, who were watching intently. Turning away previous customers in need would leave a bad impression. She sighed.

"Kura, you foolish, useless girl. Find them a room. Get Kagami and take care of him." She looked like she was sucking a lemon when she said it. By admitting to being with Jin, Kura had lost a customer, and she was allowing a man into the brothel without paying. She decided to mention this later.

Meanwhile, Mugen was struggling to readjust his grip on Jin, and was half-dragging, half-carrying him after Kura, leaving a trail of blood and muddy footprints.

"What happened?" asked Kura as they passed into a narrow and poorly-lit hall.

"Got in a fight," grunted Mugen. This was the best explanation he could offer, but Kura accepted it. She led them up a flight of stairs (Mugen teetered dangerously at the top before righting himself) and into a room at the very end of the upstairs hall. The rooms were small and separated only by screens; it was noisy and somehow crowded.

Mugen let out a groan of relief as he dumped Jin onto the bed. Kura hurried out of the room and returned with a second girl. The second girl had no make-up and was wearing a plain gray kimono; she wasn't working tonight, for some reason.

Kura pulled back the flap of Jin's hakama and winced at the sight of the cut on his thigh.

"Did it cut an artery?" asked Fuu anxiously.

"Do I look like a doctor?" replied Kura. She examined it, then said, "Could you please leave?"

Fuu and Mugen bowed their heads and left the room. They sat in the hall listening to the moans of people pleasuring themselves in nearby rooms. Fuu knelt, twisting her hands in her lap; Mugen crouched, tapping his sword impatiently on the floor.

"Will he die?" asked Fuu finally in a small voice.

"No," said Mugen shortly. He stood and stretched, cracking his neck. Fuu turned and saw the matron of the hall coming down to them; she stood too.

The matron glowered at them for a moment, then said, "I'm afraid this is a business, and although your friend is badly hurt, I cannot let you stay here longer than one night unless you're willing to pay for the room."

"But… but we haven't got any money," said Fuu softly.

"I'll get it," said Mugen before the matron could retort. "Don't worry about it. I'll get it." He crossed the hall and disappeared down the stairs. The matron bowed her head at Fuu and followed. Fuu stood there by herself, bewildered, wondering how Mugen would come up with the money. For a moment, she pictured him with his face painted white, in a butterfly obi, standing on a street corner and saying "Hey baby" to passing men in his low sneering voice. She laughed bitterly and slid against the wall to wait, listening to the rain pattering on the roof.

* * *

Though Fuu couldn't say it was the worse night of her life, it certainly made the topten list. The sounds around her weren't at all comforting, and occasionally a man or a few women would pass. More than once, a man would ask her how much; she would reply, angrily, that she wasn't for sale. Kura and Kagami walked in and out of Jin's room but didn't talk to Fuu, and she was scared to ask. Finally, she ventured to ask how he was.

"Feverous," said Kura shortly before sliding the screen closed in Fuu's face.

After a few long hours, a woman came down the hall and lit lanterns hanging on the walls; night had fallen, though it was just as dark as it had been all day because of the rain. A few hours after dark, Fuu heard quiet, sharp cries from Jin's room.

"Can I see him?" she asked Kura the next time she came out.

"No," said Kura. Fuu must have looked angry, because she said, more gently, "He requested that we not let anyone in, unless… well, until the fever is past. He's delirious. I think it would embarrass him of you had to hear it."

"Why? What's he saying?" demanded Fuu.

"Mostly he's just asking for people."

"Did he ask for me?"

"Yes, but he also asked for his mother and his dojo master, so we're going to assume he doesn't really know what he's saying at all."

Fuu sulked in the hall, her legs pulled up to her body, straining her ears to hear Jin over the groans of men and women in neighboring rooms. Mugen returned sometime after midnight with a small amount of money. He was soaked to the bone from the rain, and his front was covered with blood from Jin.

"No one's out," he said simply. "Too much rain." He dumped the coins in Fuu's lap and leaned against the wall, crossing his arms and putting his chin on his chest to sleep.

"Jin's not doing so well," said Fuu. Mugen pretended not to hear her.

* * *

A few hours past midnight, but long before dawn, Kura poked her head out into the hall.

"Hmm?" asked Fuu, looking up expectantly. She nudged Mugen. He started and looked up.

"You may see Jin now," said Kura quietly.

"Is he okay?" asked Fuu, picking herself off the floor. Kura bowed her head. "What? What is it? He's okay, right?" pressed Fuu. Kura moved aside; Fuu hurried inside and dashed to the bedside. Jin's clothes were draped over a chair nearby; he was lying in the bed with a wet cloth on his head.

"Jin!" cried Fuu, grabbing his hand without thinking. Jin turned his head to her; he barely opened his eyes. His skin was paler than usual, and his eyes were rimmed with deep bruises.

Jin's lips moved a little. "I—I can't hear you," she said, leaning closer. Jin breathed out softly, as if in defeated exasperation. Then, quietly, he murmured, "Is Mugen here?"

"Yes. He's right here," said Fuu soothingly. "_Mugen_!" she hissed, wrenching him forward. He reached behind his head and rubbed his neck awkwardly.

"Hey," he said.

Jin breathed out again, and murmured, "Good." There was a pause. "Stay with me." It was almost a question.

"We will," Fuu assured him quickly.

"I don't want to die alone."

"Jin!" cried Fuu. "You're not—you're not going to die!"

Jin stared at her through his cracked eyes, then closed them with a soft sigh. Fuu reached out to touch his face, and was scared by its heat.

"Jin?" he asked hesitantly.

"I'm tired," he said simply. He cracked his eyes open again to look at her. "But you want to talk."

"You—you must have _something_ to say."

"Hmm." He closed his eyes and was quiet a long time. Finally, he said, "When I have died, scatter my ashes across the river island, between the two salmon pools where driftwood wraps around alders."

"_Jin_!" cried Fuu. "Don't say that! That's so morbid!"

"Tanka."

"What?" She turned around. Mugen was watching them, straddling the chair that Jin's clothes were hung over, with had his hands draped over the back. He somehow managed to look bored and intently focused at the same time.

"That was a tanka," he said, suddenly becoming grossly interested in his sword. He examined the blade closely. "It's a poem."

"How would _you_ know that?" demanded Fuu. Mugen shrugged. Jin smiled slightly.

"Indigo bird who climbed the continent to perch in white lilacs: I too a weary of this pilgrim way."

Fuu heard Kura sigh audibly behind her. "He's so romantic."

"Oh, shut up, you probably say that about all your clients."

Kura looked affronted. "No, I don't!" she snapped. "Just because I'm a whore doesn't mean I can't think he's romantic! And he _is_ romantic! In fact, he's a perfect archetype for a Byronic hero!"

"Lord Byron won't be born for another hundred years!" yelled Fuu.

"You're just stereotyping me and thinking I'm uneducated because I work in a brothel!"

"The wind-blown clouds lighten and darken, lighten and darken, the room in which we argue," said Jin. Kura sighed again. Fuu glared at her, but didn't say anything. Instead, she rewetted Jin's cloth and put it back on his head. He groaned and turned his head to the side.

Fuu held onto his hand and watched him, not asleep but not awake, perched precariously on the edge of… Fuu didn't let herself think it. But, she reflected, she wished Jin had better company than a thief, a whore, and a fifteen-year-old.


	7. Chapter Six: The Owl's Call

(Author's Note: If you've gotten this far, I send a big cyber e-hug out to you! This is the last chapter before Jin tells his life history, which is rather stereotypical but a good piece of writing, in my humble opinion. Thanks to all who reviewed.)

CHAPTER SIX

"_You little bitch."_

_Eyes of hard, cold steel. A voice like grating blade._

_He felt a tough hand grab his chin and wrench his head up, forcing him to look into that hard, cruel face. "Scared to look at me?"_

_Yes, he was. Of course he was. How couldn't he be? He was shaking with fear like he'd never felt before, fear of what he'd become, fear of how little control he really had. He'd never been more scared in his life._

"_Going to say good-bye?"_

_He couldn't talk. He bowed his head._

"_You're useless." Absolute disgust. Completely understandable. He was disgusted too. Everyone should be disgusted with him. He was disgusting._

_Fingers released his hair; he felt his body hit the ground. "Good luck showing your face in public again, you freak. You'll probably need these." Next to him, a pair of glasses clattered to the ground. "By the way, don't bother coming back to the dojo. They already burned all your stuff, and Yukimaru would probably kill you on sight. So, sayonara, uke. I'll see you again someday, I'm sure…"_

Jin gasped like he was surfacing from water and tried to sit up. He couldn't hear anything or see anything. That is, he saw shapes, white light and soft edges, movement and shadow. He heard murmurs and bird calls, footsteps, static. But he might as well have been blind and deaf. It was like waking into a world with new senses, senses he couldn't begin to perceive in the last.

He groped for his swords automatically.

"Jin! Lay _down_!" Strong hands pushed his chest, burying him back into the sheets.

"Where am I? What day is it?" he demanded, still fighting to rise.

"It's morning, Jin, lay _down_!"

Jin forced himself to lie still and control his breathing, but looked around, trying to focus his eyes. He saw Fuu above him and heard Mugen say, "Damn…"

He groped beside him and felt his glasses; he took them and put them on, even though he didn't need them to see. He still couldn't sit up; every time he tried, more hands pressed down on his chest.

"_Lay down_!" chorused three female voices at once.

He was still, mind buzzing. Someone put a hand on his forehead; it was so cool that he closed his eyes gratefully. He groaned when it left.

"His fever's broken!"

"Oh, thank you, thank you…"

"I told you…" Mugen's face appeared hanging over Jin's. He grinned. "How you doin', buddy?"

"Where am I?" asked Jin.

"Whorehouse," said Mugen dismissively.

Jin tried to sit up to see his surroundings. Mugen pushed his back down as if he were made of paper. Jin felt angry at his own weakness. If he'd had his swords…

"Where are my swords?" Everything was coming back, slowly and fuzzily. "Did he get away?"

No one answered. Jin puzzled. Had it been a dream? He turned his head and saw it was morning; leaves were dripping with water. It was misting outside, but the sun was shining brightly. He could hear wet, slapping footsteps on the street below. Was he out there somewhere?

"Did he get away?" repeated Jin.

"You put his eye out, okay? Seriously, lay still or we'll strap you down, man."

Jin ignored Mugen and groped around. "Where are my clothes? What time is it?"

"Jin, _please_, hold still!" begged Fuu. She reached for him; he saw a curtain of pink and orange flutter over his eyes and then felt a reassuring coolness on his forehead. He closed his eyes. He felt nauseous, weak and disoriented. Part of his body, or maybe his whole body, was throbbing with a dull, insistent pain. He had a sudden flash of déjà vu, his life as a continuous loop, coming back to this moment, these sensations; he fell back into his troubled dreams, unsure of whether any of it was real or not.

* * *

Fuu insisted on helping. Kura and Kagami looked at her suspiciously, but let her be there when they changed the bandage. They pulled back the sheets to reveal Jin's leg, giving him as much privacy as possible even though he was unconscious. At first Fuu thought it was odd, that they, as prostitutes, should be so careful to make sure he was covered; but then, she thought, perhaps they understood better than anyone.

She covered her mouth when they peeled away the bandage. The cause of his fever was, of course, infection; the night in the mud and rain had not done well for the deep cut. It oozed yellow, fuzzy and swollen with red streaks all around it. Kura and Kagami cleaned it and rewrapped it; when Jin whimpered, Kura's hand fluttered over his face and touched his closed eyelids.

Mugen had left after Jin had gone back to sleep. He went out to earn more money; how, Fuu didn't know, although she had a pretty good idea. She couldn't argue with him about it; they needed to pay for the room, and for Kura and Kagami's services, and for food. When Mugen returned with money, neither one spoke of it. They turned it over to the matron, and she didn't question its origins, either.

By the night, Jin was sitting up, against everyone's will. He accepted some soup but spent more time grilling them with questions than with eating it. He ignored their questions and forced them to answer his own. Mugen and Fuu agreed, after he'd fallen asleep, that they half-wished he was still delirious. Once he'd found out all he wanted to know, he had retreated inside himself once more, and shed no light on what had happened between him and the other samurai.

"Maybe," theorized Mugen, "that guy is from his dojo and he swore to kill Jin because Jin killed Enshido and Jin's trying to kill him first."

"Uh-huh," said Fuu, unconvinced. "First of all, it's Enshirou, not Enshido. And secondly, Jin's never gone after anyone before unless he had a really good reason, and I don't think 'killing him first' is a very good reason."

"Well, I don't see you coming up with any brilliant theories!"

Fuu glanced at Jin's sleeping form. Her eyes migrated from his motionless body to his neatly folded clothes beside him.

She looked at Mugen. Mugen looked back at her. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"Yeah."

Both of them lunged at Jin's things. There was a short tussle over Jin's journal.

"You can't even read!" she whispered loudly

Mugen let go of it. Fuu went sprawling over backwards. She sat up and glared at him, then flipped it open. "It's only fair," she said uneasily. "He read mine."

"Yeah," agreed Mugen. "Besides, we've got to know what's going on."

Fuu hesitated.

"C'mon, girl! He read yours, didn't he? And he kept this knowing we'd probably read it too. We're not doing anything wrong. Hurry, before he wakes up!"

Finally, slowly, in a hushed and guilty voice, Fuu began reading. "This is the last entry. '_We're traveling west, towards what I hope will be my final destination. I'm so tired of traveling, in my body and mind. Perhaps the last safe place is waiting for me at the next town_—'"

"Bor-ing," said Mugen loudly.

"Shh!" hissed Fuu. "If he wakes up, he'll kill us."

"Not with that leg, he won't," replied Mugen smugly. Fuu slapped his arm and hushed him again.

"'—_once I've taken my revenge and restored my honor_—'"

"Geez, is he always on?"

"Shh, Mugen! '—_restored my honor, I'm unsure what purpose I will have for living, or even for wielding my sword. I must seriously begin to consider whether I want to continue to live, or at least, to exist, or whether I would do better to avenge my family by ending my life and—_' is he serious? '—and _thus preventing myself from coming to further shame_.'"

Mugen made a swipe at the journal. "Maybe he wrote that while he was delirious."

"Shh!" hissed Fuu. She flipped through the pages. "What the heck is he talking about?"

"I dunno. I think he's just crazy."

"'_I wonder if he will know me immediately, or whether I've changed too much for him to recognize me.'_ Who?"

"He doesn't even write the guy's name?"

"I don't see—"

Jin turned. Mugen and Fuu both jumped. "Quick!" whispered Mugen urgently. "Find out what he means about the honor and shame thing!"

"There's nothing," said Fuu, disappointed, leafing through the pages. "It might as well be in code. He doesn't even say who he's looking for." She turned the journal sideways. "Hey, Mugen, listen. '_I hear the owl call; lost and mournful it seemed, alone, unanswered. Yet the moon is still serene, knowing well this old story…_' Isn't that incredible?"

"Lame," said Mugen with a shake of his head. "I'm telling you. He's crazy."

"Crazy people don't write poetry that beautiful!" said Fuu defensively.

"What'd you know about 'beautiful?' You look like something a dog threw up."

"WHY YOU—" Jin turned over in his sleep again. Fuu quickly reached out to put his things back, while glaring at Mugen. He just smirked and shrugged, and sauntered out without a word.

* * *

On the second day, Jin decided it was time to go. He got out of bed, despite the fact that his leg was still heavily bandaged and couldn't support any weight, and was stopped only when both Fuu and Kura dragged him back to bed for rest.

"No excitement!" Kura warned him.

Mugen burst through the paper screen panting. He was soaked again (he'd had to cross a ditch to avoid the people he was running from) and covered in blood again (he'd torn his hand and chest on a fence he'd hopped over).

"Mugen!" they both screamed.

"No… time… explain!" he gasped, grabbing his side. "Angry… mob… pick-pocketing… long… story!"

"Ah-ha!" said Jin, happy for an excuse to get out of bed. He stood up, the sheet his only clothing, and pitched forward. Kura grabbed him.

"No, not 'ah-ha!'" yelled Fuu. She grabbed the front of Mugen's shirt and gave him a good shake, putting her face so close to his that she could see every hair on his chin. "What did you do?"

"Got… caught… coming… after me!" gasped Mugen. "Like a hundred!"

"Let's go!" said Jin, trying to peel Kura off him.

"You can't go! You nearly died!" yelled Kura.

"Gotta go! No time!" said Mugen, jumping to Jin's aid and trying to pry Kura off him.

"We're not going anywhere!" screeched Fuu, hurrying to help Kura. All four struggled for a moment; Jin buckled every few seconds under their combined weight, and they all rushed to tug him back up before trying to tug him apart again.

A man walked past the splintered screen and glanced in. All four froze; Jin had one hand on Kura's chest and one on the bed for balance; Kura had one hand on Mugen's arm and another on Jin's sheet; Mugen had one hand on Jin and another on Fuu's head; Fuu had a hand on Jin's sheet and one over Jin's hand, on Kura's chest.

"Heh-heh," said Fuu, smiling innocently.

"I don't think I'm in the right brothel," said the man, confused.

"This isn't what it looks like," said Mugen, holding up his hands to shrug. In doing so, he let go of Jin, and the sheet dropped.

"Definitely not the right brothel," said the man.

Kura, Mugen, Jin, and Fuu all gave him big, awkward grins, and scooted as a single unit across the room to resume their fight in front of a screen that was still intact.

"You can't travel like this!" hissed Fuu.

"You can't stop me!" hissed Jin back, reaching for his clothes. Mugen handed them to him and said, "We haven't got a choice! I've got a freakin' mob after me!"

Fuu started to argue, but then heard shouting downstairs and something breaking. She suddenly remembered the fortune teller's advice about water and red. Mugen was still dripping, and still bleeding.

"See!" he yelled. "They'll bust my balls!"

"Actually, that might be doing the gene pool a favor."

"Shut up, man!" said Mugen, pushing him. He wobbled and began falling over; Mugen grabbed the neck of his kimono and pulled him back up. "Come on, come on, hurry!" With one arm slung around Jin, Mugen helped him hobbled toward the torn screen. He poked a head out, then ducked back in. "Window!"

"_What_? Mugen! I'm not jumping out the window! I'm putting my foot down! I'm absolutely not going out that window!"

"Whatever rocks your boat!" said Mugen, ripping open the window. He and Jin leapt out. She heard Jin yell; the impact on his leg must have been painful.

She ran to the window and looked out; Mugen and Jin were limping down the street like participants in a crazy, three-legged race.

For a moment, she stood wringing her hands; then with a noise of disgust she climbed out the window after them. She landed of a cart of hay and picked herself up, strands in her hair and clothes. She charged after them. "Hey, wait! Wait for me!"

"Jin!" shouted Kura out the window. Jin stopped but Mugen didn't; both pitched face-first into the street. Mugen hopped up and kept running; Jin rolled over onto his back and looked up. Kura leaned out the window. "Take good care of that leg!"

"I will!" yelled Jin back. Kura blew him a kiss; he responded with a small smile. Fuu picked him up and the two hobbled away as quickly as they could, zigzagging through the city to avoid the crowds screaming for a thief to bring to justice.


	8. Chapter Seven: Jin's Story Begins

(Author's Note: Yes! Jin begins his life history! You'll soon know who his mysterious arch-enemy is! Sorry the chapters are choppy, but Jin's story is far too long for a single chapter, even though it's not really meant to be broken up.)

CHAPTER SEVEN

"Admit it! You need my help!"

"I don't need your help!"

Fuu crossed her arms and tapped her foot impatiently. Jin leaned against a tree. They had been walking for several hours, but the actual ground they'd covered was negligible. Fuu estimated that the journey to the next town would take days, even though it should have taken only one.

"Give me a second!"

"You've been standing there a minute! Admit you're hurt!"

"_No_!"

Mugen cracked his knuckles. Fuu winced; he was always cracking things, and it drove her crazy. (That's why he did it.)

Jin finally let go of the tree and resumed walking. His limp was pronounced; Fuu made sure to stay close in case he fell.

"Are you _ever_ going to tell us who that guy was?" asked Mugen. He had taken to walking a ways and then doubling back; Fuu, on the other hand, tried to keep pace with Jin, even though it involved walking excruciatingly slow.

"No," growled Jin, grabbing another tree for support.

"For heaven's sake just let me help you!"

"No!"

"You act like you're two years old!"

"At least I can take care of myself! At least I don't need anyone to help me realize my goals in life, and that's more than you can say!"

She and Jin faced off, breathing heavily. Fuu was hurt; she had always thought that, even though Mugen and Jin pretended to hate her, they had grown fond of her and didn't hold any grudge against her for dragging them on the quest to find the samurai who smelled of sunflowers.

"Fine," said Fuu, voice shaking. "You can just… walk by yourself, then." She walked up the road without looking back.

Mugen looked from her retreating back, to Jin, still holding onto a tree. "Oh, don't make me chose!" he screamed.

"Why don't you just kill him?" yelled back Fuu, turning around and walking backwards. "You said you wanted to! And now he's helpless, isn't he?"

Mugen looked at Jin again. Jin's eyes narrowed. Then he looked at Fuu. "Fuu, you crazy bitch! Come back here!"

"No!" she yelled.

"Go ahead," hissed Jin, lowering his head. "Go after her! You don't need me, anyways. I can take care of myself."

"I don't need either of you!" screamed Fuu, still walking backwards.

"Well I don't need either of you, either!" said Mugen, going to the far side of the road and slamming his back against a tree, examining his nails. "We can all just go our separate ways!"

"Fine, that's what I wanted anyways!"

"Yeah, well, me too!"

Jin suddenly fell over. "Jin!" they both yelled, and ran to him.

"I don't need help!" he snapped, trying to brush them away; but both grabbed an arm and heaved him up.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," said Fuu, brushing dust from his clothes. "I do need you, both of you. Please don't leave me now. We're so close…"

"Look, though, Jin, you're being retarded. You're gonna get a fever again. And you've got to tell us what the hell's going on. That guy could've killed us."

Jin's eyes narrowed into slits. Finally, he said, "My leg hurts."

Fuu groaned in frustration, but she and Mugen agreed to rest for the night; they wouldn't get much farther, anyways. With Jin's arms around each of them, the three hobbled to the nearest clearing. Jin sat down and stretched out his leg painfully in front of him, then looked up at Fuu. Their eyes met, and then Jin's dropped. He didn't say anything, but Fuu knew he was thanking her.

* * *

"I haven't been completely honest with you."

"No surprise there," said Fuu.

"Makes two of us," said Mugen breezily.

The three were sitting around the fire, just like they had so many other times before. Mugen was standing, leaning against a tree in his usual, laid-back manner. Fuu was sitting on a log she'd rolled up to the fire, slouched over her crossed arms and watching Jin intently like a child. And Jin sat with one legs tucked under his body, like he was meditating, and the other stretched out in front of him, useless. He stared at the ground beneath the les of his glasses, drawing in the dust with his finger while he talked.

"I've been searching…" He stopped suddenly. Mugen looked up expectantly. "It's a long story," sighed Jin. "It's best to start with the beginning." He looked up at them. "I've never told anyone this before."

"Man, we three have told each other everything. You can't hold out now," said Mugen. He paused to rub his upper lip and chin, and crack his neck. Fuu winced.

"I need your assurance that you will never speak of it again. It's… a disgraceful story."

"We promise!" chirruped Fuu immediately. She glared at Mugen.

"Aww… I promise, I promise."

She looked back to Jin. He sighed again, reached up to run a hand over the hair that was pulled into his ponytail. Then, he began.

"I grew up in a family with a long tradition of kenjetsu. Both my parents were samurai. And their parents, samurai. And their parents, samurai. And their parents, samurai."

"We get the idea."

"And their parents, samurai," continued Jin. "And do you know what their parents were?" He fixed Mugen with an intent look.

"Hmm, let me guess," said Mugen sarcastically, putting a thoughtful finger on his cheek. "Umm… _samurai_?"

"No, goatherds."

"Oh."

"But they were also very skilled with the sword. People steal goats, you know."

"Sure, I'll buy that."

"Because my parents were so skilled, and had been brought up in the Age of War, I had two very strong influences in my early life. One was our tradition… and the other, the constant threat of their enemies…."

* * *

"_Ha_!" The woman jumped up and landed on the table, taking a swipe at the man's head. He ducked, reached out and broke the table under her. She jumped again and spun, rolling over the ground and swinging at his legs. He spun away and she rose, running at him. The two hit with the force of a tsunami, and for a moment, they were locked in battle, swords flashing.

"Stop!"

Both frozen in mid-fight. The man had his sword in mid-swing over his head, his other hand stretched out before him, fingers splayed. The woman was in mid-crouch, one leg in front of the other, and her sword extended to the full length.

Both had dark hair and pale skin. The man had a heavy jaw and lined eyes; the woman's face was much longer and more angular, giving her a natural beauty even though she wasn't a very typical woman.

Between them, a small, fluffy dog waddled, its tail wagging.

"That dog!" growled the woman. She moved her foot, sweeping the little ball of fluff aside; it yipped indignantly. "How can we practice when it's always coming between us?"

"I sent it outside!" The man crossed the room; it was a small room with a low ceiling; a kitchen. He slid back a paper screen painted with a scene of the ocean and yelled out the window: "JIN! Come get your dog!"

The field ran down from the house, a steep waterfall of tall, dry grass that rippled in the wind. A small boy, shorter than the grass, turned his head. The rest of his body stayed frozen, balanced on one foot, in mid-form. He was practicing his kata.

"Jin! I said, come get this dog! You're dismissed from kata!"

Jin let his body go loose and he scurried (or rather, waded) up the hill toward the house. He burst in with his sword still hung over his shoulder; he was only about five, but had a startling seriousness imprinted on his babyish face.

"Sword," said both his parents. He banged his sword on the table before heaving up the small, fluffy dog. He yipped again and licked Jin's face.

"Ahh!" said Jin, partially blinded by the dog's tongue.

His father laughed and picked both him and the dog up, swinging them around. "Yori knows he's in trouble, so he's being particularly affectionate today," said Jin's father gravely. Jin laughed as well; it was true, the dog was never sweeter than when it was caught interrupting a fight or a meditation. Jin's mother's just scowled; she had less tolerance for the little dog, or as she called it, "Runt."

Jin's father, in his long, swishing dark blue kimono stamped with the Takeda mon, carried both Jin and the dog outside in his arms; Jin's mother didn't smile until she was sure both were gone. Then she turned to begin dinner, still smiling, the sun pouring in from the screens and lighting her red kimono until it glowed brighter than blood, the dragon embroidered on its side fixed in a permanent snarl of victory.

* * *

"Of course I was too young to appreciate the danger my family lived in. I heard my parents talk often about the Shogunate this, and the assassins that, and what will we do when those or these vagabonds come for us? But nothing ever really happened. It was all talk to me, pointless talk. I knew, I think, that we were at odds with the Takugawa family. But I didn't realize the significance of it until one day when I was nearly six, and my uncle went to the city… that's when everything changed…" 


	9. Chapter Eight: Murdered In Cold Blood

(Author's Note: Sniff, sniff. Jin's parents die here. Not much else to say, except that it explains the odd peach tree tanks in the beginning and mention Jin's dog. Yep, Yori is a Shih Tzu. And yep, Iknow Shih Tzu are Chinese in origin, but I just don't care.)

CHAPTER EIGHT

Huruko was a quiet man who hated the city, and it showed. He walked briskly down the street, geta tapping the paving stone in annoyance, hakama swishing impatiently. He wasn't touching his sword, but the look on his face implied that it would take very little to prompt him to do so. He had a hooked nose and looked down it with an eagle-like glare; his mouth was small and pulled tightly, unlike his hair, which was rich black and hung in a loose ponytail that allowed his bangs to spill in front of his face.

"That's the one."

"_Him_?"

The four boys stood in an alleyway, watching the samurai stride past.

"Yes, him!" said the oldest boy. He was the tallest, pockmarked and mean-looking. The other two boys flanked him, closing in on the fourth. The fourth was much younger. He only came up to the shoulder of the first. His face was smudged with dirt, and his clothes were in rags around his body.

Contemplatively, he rubbed his tan face, smearing more dirt over it, and ran his fingers through his spiky hair, which was short and uneven.

"But I can't—"

"Of course you can!" said the fourth, in the kind of fake, sneering encouragement that takes years to perfect. He shoved the younger boy forward.

Stumbling, the barefoot boy began weaving through the crowd on the street. He peered into shop windows, stopped to drool at a vender selling dumplings, and kicked at a small rock. He looked for all the world like a regular, innocent boy; but he had a sly grin as he watched the samurai. He knew why the older boys insisted that it had to be him; they thought that he'd fail. But he wouldn't; not because he was a brilliant pick-pocket, but because he was a brilliant fighter, sharp and agile, even at age five, and he was in his element: the city.

He chased a pigeon, hurrying past Huruko. Huruko gave a small, slow smile that reached only the corners of his mouth, when the boy ran past him. Even though they looked nothing alike… well, he was reminded of his nephew.

The pigeon fluttered away in a panic, and the disappointed boy turned around gloomily, smashing right into Huruko. Huruko tried to step aside but the boy plowed into him with the force of a tsunami.

"Excuse me!" he squeaked, trying to untangle himself from Huruko's billowy clothes.

"No harm done, no harm done!" Huruko assured him, stepping back and trying to make sure the boy was okay. But he'd already scurried off. Shy, thought Huruko.

Absent-mindedly, he put a hand in his obi as he began walking again. It was only then that he realized he'd been robbed.

Three blocks over, the thin, dirty boy with spiky hair and a sly grin had darted into the alley, opening up a fist wrapped closely around a pile of coins. The older boys laughed and slapped him on the back, amazed that he'd been able to outsmart a samurai.

"Way to go, Mugen!" they congratulated him.

* * *

"_You_ were the one who pick-pocketed my uncle?" asked Jin. 

"Well, yeah, I pick-pocketed a guy who looked just like him… I had to!" added Mugen. "Geez, it's not like I knew he was your uncle until just now!"

Fuu laughed. "What are the chances!" She grew serious again. "But why's your uncle being pick-pocketed matter to the story? Who's the guy in glasses?"

"I'm getting to that!" snapped Jin. He nodded to Mugen. "If it was indeed you who pick-pocketed my uncle, then my life is in debt to you."

"Huh?"

"Let me finish…"

* * *

Ringo trudged up the hill, wheezing and tripping. He was an old man, not as fit as he'd once been, and had grown something of a belly in recent years. He didn't have a single hair on his head, but very bushy eyebrows and eyes crinkled in a permanent smile. He paused to sit on a rock on the hillside and wipe his shining face with a piece of cloth. He looked up unhappily at the steep hill he still had to climb, its uneven, rocky ground hidden under tall, waving grass. 

From the top of the hill, perched in a tree, a boy looked back down at him.

The house was placed on the very top of the highest hill in the city. Not that it could be called a city; it was actually a country, with a lot of hills and houses spaced out so widely that everyone was ensured plenty of privacy. They met sometimes, but not often. The people of that place kept to themselves and had no interest in gossip.

Ringo had been to this home before; it was not small, but cozy and nicely furnished. Most of the paper screens had soft scenes of the sea on them, painted by the woman of the house herself, and wind-chimes hung outside. On the north-east side, where the top of the hill was flat, was an expansive garden with fountains and statues and plenty of space to practice kata. For all of its subtle elegance, the house was not really welcoming. The family entertained very little and never smiled. Ringo liked them, because he liked everyone, but they weren't the warmest people on the block, and he wasn't looking forward to climb the rest of the hip, just to deliver the bad news.

He was glad when he saw the boy begin to descend from the tree he was perched in. The peach tree that stood on the west side of the house was probably the only thing which had not been carefully placed. It looked as if it was growing from the house itself, its trunk was so close; it leaned over dramatically, and though Ringo had seen it covered it blossoms, it rarely bore peaches. Or, it bore peaches, but the boy probably picked them before anyone could admire them.

Once he'd dropped out of the low, tilted tree, the boy strode down the hilltop. He bowed before he was in earshot of Ringo; and he bowed again once he was.

"Murakami-san," he said. He was a good-looking boy, everyone agreed; he had his mother's serious gray eyes, his father's luscious black hair, his mother's oval face, and his father's way of looking permanently mournful, almost on the verge of anger. His hair was loose, but cut so evenly that it almost looked fake. His clothes, too, seemed too clean and too neat after tree-climbing; they were far too big on him, but didn't have a single sign of being snagged on any branches.

"Please, please, just Ringo," panted Ringo, even though he knew the family had raised their child too strictly for him ever to address anyone by their first name. "Is your father here, please?"

"Yes, Murakami-san," he said, bowing again. "I can fetch him, if you like."

"Please do," panted Ringo. "I'll meet you at the top."

The boy bowed, turned, and went dashing up the hill in the first sign of child-like exuberance Ringo had yet seen. His hair and his big clothes trailed later him, and Ringo thought seeing him running through the sunny grass was maybe even worth his labor up the field.

* * *

The boy raced up the hill and around the house. His mother and father were kneeling in a patch of moss in the garden, heads bowed in concentration over a large expanse of carefully maintained sand. A fountain was trickling next to them. 

Their son stood for a long time, not wanting to interrupt. Finally, he said timidly, "Father…?"

"Jin, what have I told you about bothering us during meditation?"

He bowed, even though his father hadn't looked up. "Murakami-san is here to see you."

"Ask what he wants."

Jin turned and ran back down the hill to Ringo. "I'm sorry," he said with a bow. "My father is meditating. He does not wish to be disturbed. Could I ask the nature of your visit?"

"I've got a letter," said Ringo.

Jin ran back up the hill and informed his father it was a letter.

"From who?" he asked.

Jin relayed the message back.

"Well, I don't know," said Ringo in surprise. "His brother, I suppose. Who else would have sent a letter? But I can't know for sure without breaking the seal."

Jin repeated this in the garden.

"From Huruko, is it?" asked his father in a low voice. "Go ahead and take it, then, and leave it on the table inside. And don't bother us again."

Jin apologized and ran down to get the letter. "Would you like something to eat or drink before you go, Murakami-san?" he asked, out of breath.

"Well, now that you mention it, some tea would be nice. Actually, I really ought to stay… I have to talk to Suoh…"

Jin ran up to the house, put the letter on the table, and began making tea. Ringo managed the rest of the journey up by the time it was finished. He sat without being asked in a luxurious wicker chair with embroidered cushions and blew at the hot tea gently, while Jin stood by with his hands clasped, awaiting further instructions.

"So, Jin…" said Ringo. Jin bowed his head to acknowledge he'd heard. "How are your studies?"

"Very well. My Master is skilled beyond words, and my parents are without comparison. I am very lucky."

"How old are you? Five or six, isn't it? How many years—"

"Since I was three," said Jin promptly. Ringo shook his head in amazement.

"You're far too young, if you want my opinion," he said. "And far too serious, also."

"I apologize," said Jin, bowing.

Ringo and he fell into silence. Ringo finished his tea and cast an eye around for something to converse about. His eyes fell on a small dog, black and white. "Is that your dog?"

"Yes. His name is Yori."

Yori raised his fluffy head sleepily, yawned at Jin, scratched behind his ear, and went back to sleep. For a long time, Ringo and Jin stood in silence.

Finally, they heard a screen being rolled back, and Jin's parents swept into the room, looking a bit more upbeat after all their meditating. Both wore kimono and hakama; both had swords in their obi. The wife put hers on the table before she went to the kitchen for drinks. Jin's father, who looked very much like his son, though he had a squarer jaw and more chiseled features, remaining standing with his swords.

"Ringo-san!" he greeted him with a crushing handshake and a bow.

"Suoh-san," replied Ringo, bowing.

"Has Jin gotten you tea?" he asked, giving Jin a withering glare.

"Yes, he's been a very good host," said Ringo quickly. "You've raised him well."

"Is this the letter?" asked Suoh, gesturing to the table.

"It is. But Suoh-san, I'll confess… I didn't only come to deliver the letter. I have other news… news which would be unwise to write on paper, and which would best be told to you directly, anyway."

"Jin. Leave," snapped Suoh.

Jin turned obediently and left. The dog waddled after him.

Jin walked up the stairs to the loft where he slept and sat down, so he could hear every word. He propped his elbows on his knees and his cheeks on his fists, head cocked. Voices floated up.

"Suoh-san… Michi-san… you are both great samurai. Some of the greatest, some say."

"We were trained by the greatest," said Suoh modestly.

"You have a lot of enemies."

"We know," came Michi's voice, more musical but as hard as her husband's. "But we've never yet met any who pose any real threat…"

"Well, I've come to warn you that that day may have arrived. You've made a lovely home for yourselves… you have a beautiful son… but some of your otherwise powerless enemies have fallen into favor with the Shogunate."

"The Takugawa family is involved?" asked Jin's father, voice sharp.

"Yes. They'll come within the week. This I can guarantee. I would not warn you, if I did not think you were in grave danger."

There was a poignant pause.

"We will not steal away like thieves in the night," said Michi.

"We've done nothing wrong," agreed Suoh.

"Please, Suoh-san, Michi-san. You have a child—"

"We will not run! We've done nothing—"

"Please, Michi-san, I beg you to save yourselves."

"We will not run," she repeated. Ringo sighed; Jin heard him thanking them for the tea, and their hospitality, and leaving.

"JIN!" Suoh's voice came some suddenly that Jin fell forward and tumbled down the stairs. He landed in a heap at his father's feet. The dog yipped.

Jin picked himself, bowed, and asked, "Yes, Father?"

"I need you to run an errand." He picked up the letter from the table and broke the seal. "Yes, it's from Huruko, all right," he said as he read. "How unfortunate. He was pick-pocketed last month in the city."

"The city," scowled Jin's mother, saying all she needed to in a single glare. Her hair was not in a ponytail, but was actually shorter than her husband's; it framed her face and reached just barely below her shoulders. She had sticks in the back, but no other decoration. She passed more cups of tea to Jin and Suoh wordlessly.

"I suppose he needs us to compensate him?" she asked dryly.

"Now, Michi, dear…"

"No, Suoh, it's true and you know it well. He only writes to request favors."

"He's my brother," said Suoh. "Foolish or not, I have a blood obligation to him." He sighed and set the letter back on the table. "Well." He gave a look to his wife. She sighed and bowed her head. She left the room; she returned and handed him a small purse. "How much did he lose?"

"A lot," said Suoh shortly. "Jin, please take this to your uncle."

"Yes, Father." Jin jumped off his chair, bowed, took the purse, and dashed out of the room. The small dog followed, little more than a ball of black and white fluff. There was a flash of a sword, and the dog found its way barred by a blade. It scuttled back.

"Every day you get closer to that dog. Someday Jin will return to find him with a little patch shaved from his head," said Suoh with a small smile.

"I don't like the amount of freedom we give it," she said shortly. "Someday he will run away and never return."

"He knows his boundaries."

"He's useless, anyways."

"He keeps Jin company."

"Jin doesn't need company."

"He has no brothers or sisters."

"We can change that." In a flash he rose, grabbed her, and dipped her towards the floor. Just as fast, she slipped away from him.

"Don't make me fight you," she said, reaching for the swords on the table.

"Oh, you want to fight, do you?" he leered. "We'll raise the stakes. I win, I get my bidding. You win…"

"And you rid of us that silly excuse for a dog."

"Done!"

The two walked out with their arms around each other's waists; they settled everything in fights, and found practice more calming even than their meditations.

* * *

"Uncle!" Jin ran to his uncle like he was going to embrace him, but instead, bowed. 

"Ah, you're far too polite, my boy. When I was your age, I collected lizards and threw mud at girls," said Huruko, leaning against the frame of his door. "Why have your parents sent you out so late? How long have you been walking in darkness?"

"Over an hour, Uncle. But I'm not afraid."

"Uh-huh," said Huruko, unconvinced. "And what if you should meet a robber?"

"I have my sword." Jin turned and gestured to his mother's wakazashi. Huruko shook his head in disbelief, that any woman would give her son a sword, even a small one.

"Well, come in, anyways. Have a sweet." Jin took it happily; sweets were denied to him by his parents at home. "Did your father get my letter?"

"Yes. He's sent money." Jin handed his uncle the purse. He looked in it, counting the coins; then they disappeared into his obi.

"Your father is a very generous man, Jin."

"I'll tell him you're grateful," replied Jin, swinging his legs under the table as he poured honey into his tea. (This was another delicacy he never had at his parents' house.)

"How are things on your end, Jin?"

"Very well, I think. Well… there's been some trouble, but my parents aren't worried."

"More trouble, mm?" Huruko sighed and picked up his cup from the table. "Go ahead and tell me."

"I didn't hear it very well; I was on the stairs. Murakami Ringo-san came over to deliver a letter, and he said something about the Takugawa family."

Jin's uncle's eyebrows rose, but the rest of his face remained expressionless. "What about them?" he asked softly.

"There's an alliance between them and some of our enemies. Father didn't seem concerned…" Jin examined Huruko's face. He knew already that something was wrong. "Should he be?"

"Are you leaving?" replied Huruko.

"No; Mother said we've done nothing wrong. Uncle?"

Huruko stood and brushed his hands. "I think it's time for bed, Jin."

"I can walk home…"

"It's dark. You'll stay here, tonight. Here, have another sweet."

Jin took it and went to bed with his sword.

* * *

The news came that morning, just as Huruko thought it would. He and Jin were eating an early lunch, sitting on a low stone wall outside, when the messenger came, bowed, and said simply: "Your brother has been killed." 

Neither Huruko nor Jin showed any sign they'd even heard him. The messenger watched Jin; he was too serious for a little boy.

"What happened?" asked Huruko.

"It was last night. They were fighting outside, and were already tired. There was an ambush. I'm sorry."

Huruko bowed his head for a long time, then slid off the stone wall, pulled Jin off it, and said, "Is there anything left?"

"Not much."

"We'll salvage what we can. Come, Jin."

The messenger watched the two retreat inside. He walked away shaking his head; he had a daughter Jin's age, and she had never been so quiet in the entire course of her life.

* * *

"I don't understand." 

"No; you won't until you're older," said Huruko shortly. He and Jin were wading through the grass toward the hill where Jin's home was. Both had bags slung over their backs, and wide straw hats on their heads. Huruko's bag already had some things in it, but Jin didn't know what.

"They've never been defeated."

"There were probably tens of soldiers. Maybe hundreds. They would not have gone down without a fight."

"Why didn't they run?"

"Your parents were very honorable people, Jin-chan. They had a lot of enemies as well. I think they knew this was coming. Haven't you wondered why you're sent to my home so often?"

It was true, reflected Jin; the last year he spent the night there at least two or three times a week at Huruko's house.

A third man joined them as they reached the hill. He was wearing a blue kimono with white diamonds, just like Huruko's.

"I'm very sorry, Huruko-san."

Huruko just shook his head. "Can you confess your surprise?"

"No. I would have been surprised if they'd lived to the boy's seventh birthday. Is this him?"

"Yes; Jin."

Jin bowed without knowing why.

"Jin?" repeated the second man in surprise.

"After Michi's mother. Don't ask."

They ceased speaking and concentrating on climbing the hill. Jin looked anxious. Every moment, things were getting more confusing.

"Do you think it's wise to let the boy in?"

"Yes. He needs to see it. This will be his last chance to say good-bye. He'll heal. He's tough, like Suoh was."

"Uncle?" asked Jin.

"Quiet, Jin."

When they reached the house, it didn't look any worse than it had been. The peach tree was there, as it always had been; the paper screens with their painted scenery were closed.

They walked around the end of the house, and Jin realized how quiet it was. Yori wasn't barking. He felt his heart hammering.

The garden had been changed. The carefully raked patch of sand where his parents always reflected had been kicked around; there were footprints in the moss and flowers.

"Of course, they took all of their own dead," said the man who'd joined them. He had very short, light hair, pulled back into a very short and silly-looking ponytail. He had a round, stout face, but carried himself proudly.

"Of course," echoed Huruko, poking the sand with his foot, trying to fix it.

He and the other man opened the door and entered the house. Jin followed, and his breath caught in his throat; his home was trashed.

Broken china was scattered on the floor. The tatami mats were ripped up, the furniture was turned over, and one wall looked like a fire had been against it. Scrolls from the walls had been ripped down and torn.

"Father?" he called. His voice echoed, falling flat in the empty house.

"He's dead, Jin," said Huruko shortly. He walked into the next room and went "ahh."

The other man and Jin went with him. The other man went "ahh," as well; lying on the floor was what remained of Jin's parents.

His father was on his side, hair down and covering his face. A dark pool of blood was around him, most of it coming from his stomach, which had been torn open completely, its contents littering the floor. His mother was at the foot of the stairs, face unrecognizable because it was covered in blood, her neck partially severed. Yori was lying next to her, white fur stained.

Jin squeaked.

"I think they got him first," said the second man, nodding. "In any case, Michi has more marks; she must have forgotten all form after his death and fought like a cornered lioness, without restraint. The dog tried to defend her."

Jin swayed slightly. Huruko grabbed his hand. Jin tugged him, and went over to his mother with a dazed look. He touched her mutilated face, picked up Yori's lifeless body, and then buried his face into Huruko's kimono and began sobbing.

Normally, Huruko would have told him to stop; but he let him cry. He picked him up, and though Jin was beyond understanding, he heard a lot of things that he would later remember; Huruko asking the other man if Michi had been violated, and the other man saying no, she'd died honorably; Huruko checking if any kimono were left, but of course all had been stolen; the other man (Seiko), finding a spare set of clothes that had been overlooked and giving them to Huruko; and finally, Seiko slipping the blue beads Michi had worn around her wrist and slipping them on Jin's.

"Will he be okay?" asked Seiko as they left the house.

"Yes; he's made of the stuff his father was. Take him to the dojo; let him heal there."

"And you… you'll be leaving, I assume?"

"Have I any other choice? They've probably already gone to my house."

"Will you come back for the boy?"

"Yes, if they don't find me first. Tell Enshirou-san to keep him until his nineteenth birthday."

"I can send some of our own, to bury them."

"No; Takugawa's people will return. It's best to leave them."

"It's no use pretending we weren't there; Jin's already moved the dog."

"Jin, let go of Yori now. It's his home." Huruko pulled the dog from Jin and laid him in the grass, and they walked back, with Jin seeing the last of his home over his uncle's shoulder.


	10. Chapter Nine: Mugen's Stories

(Author's Note: Gasp! Oh my gosh! Jin and Mugen are SOUL MATES. No, not really, but I think it would be neat if they were. In a heterosexual way. Anyways, continuing on, a lot of this chapter is Jin's killing on Enshirou and other things you already knew, didn't you, you smart reader, you? I hope I did okay with Mugen's story... his past is a lot shadier and I just don't know too much about it, but I tried.)

CHAPTER NINE

"_That was you_?" cried Mugen.

"Mugen!" Fuu reproached him. She thought it was horribly insensitive to interrupt Jin's story about his parents' death… although she didn't know how any of it would explain Jin's fight with a samurai in glasses.

"No, shut up, _you_ were the samurai family that got murdered? Oh, man, no way! No way!"

"What are you talking about?" demanded Fuu.

"That—that story! I heard it! I was a kid, I heard it all!" Mugen shook his head in disbelief, and began his own story.

* * *

"And so—bam!—he jumped onto the couch, tilting it over and knocking over three soldiers! And then his sword flashed, and before you know it, they were lying there with their legs still under the furniture, with nothing left but stumps!"

The boys all leaned toward the younger one. They were sitting in a bar, with glasses of sake and a plate of seafood in front of them. Mugen was enjoying the attention; he'd heard the story last week and had embellished it a bit himself.

"What about the girl samurai?" asked one, breathlessly.

"Oh, she was still there, faster than lighting!" Mugen assured him. "She twisted and struck, like a dancing geisha! Her hair and kimono flew around her, and all they saw was a flash of silver before their heads were separated from their bodies and they fell! The dog jumped around her feet, growling and snapping!"

"What kind of dog was it?"

"It was… it was a wolf! A half-wolf!" said Mugen. "It was as big as she was! Yeah, with fangs so sharp they could crush your arm in a single bite! You wouldn't want to mess with it."

"Who cares about the dog?" asked the oldest. "Tell us about the samurai!"

"Oh, man, they were all over the place! I can't even describe it!" He smiled slyly. "I could show you, though."

The boys, and a few other patrons at surrounding tables, groaned and laughed at the idea of the little boy even trying.

"Hey, Mugen, the day you pull some samurai moves is the day I buy you lunch," said the oldest one.

"Just watch me!" said Mugen boldly. He climbed over another boy, stood in the middle of the bar, and took a deep breath, shaking himself out.

"This'll be good…" muttered someone.

Suddenly Mugen jumped, twisted, balanced for a split second on one hand, drawing his dagger so fast several people gasped audibly. He slashed several times at imaginary enemies, forward, sideways, behind his back; he kicked off a wall, slid on his side, twisted around a few times, and came to a rest with his head propped casually on his hand, in what was not quite a real fight move but more of a dance one. Several people whooped and clapped.

"Looks like someone's buying Mugen lunch," sang the second-youngest boy.

"Oh, shut up," scowled the oldest. "He probably made up that dumb samurai story, just like he's making up fight moves right now."

"I did not make it up! I heard it and it's true!"

"I wouldn't put it past the Shogun, anyways," someone muttered.

Mugen stood up and resumed telling the story, half-miming it. "Man, they were as fast as lightning! But there were too many soldiers; pretty soon they were cornered, and then—" He made a sickening squelching noise. "One of them sent a sword plunging into this guy's stomach and ripping out all of his intestines, spraying them over the floor in a rain of blood! The girl went crazy! She was screaming and slashing and crying all at once! And before you know it they were all over her, ripping the face of her skin off!"

"What about the dog?" interrupted one of the boys.

"Oh, yeah, they got him too!"

"Shut up, Mugen, you're making this all up."

"No, you shut up!" shouted Mugen. "It's true! I swear, man, it's all true! Fucking Shogun, man, they killed the whole family! Just left them all there in he house too!"

"Nuh-uh. You're lying."

"I'll fucking kill you!"

A few people in the bar tittered. Mugen had gotten so worked up by his gossip that he was dancing around, spraying spit and twitching. If he was an adult, it would have been terrifying.

"It's just dumb fairy tales to point out how terrible the Shogun is," said the older boy, dismissively.

"It's not dumb, it's true! The Takugawa family is a bunch of pigs! Look at us, struggling just to eat, and then with all their fancy stupid crap up in their house on the hill, I mean, it's fucking stupid! I wouldn't take it, man! If I ever met one, I'd gut them! Someday I'll find them and then—" He slashed the air violently. The bar had grown rather quiet.

Two men stood from a darkened corner. They'd been watching Mugen carefully.

"Son, you've a very talented swordsman," said one.

"Yeah, I know," said Mugen flatly.

"Mind if I see your sword?"

Mugen passed it over with a shrug; it had barely left his hands when he found the other man had grabbed his hands, wrenched them behind his back, and kicked him to his knees.

"Hey! What gives!" he yelled.

"Turn out his pockets."

Mugen's friends dashed out of the bar as the man revealed all the stolen money Mugen was carrying.

"Kid, you're under arrest."

"What!" screamed Mugen. "You can't arrest me! I'll kill you! Let me go!"

"We'll let you go. We'll let you go in Ryuukyu. How's that sound, you grubby little street urchin?"

The men led the screaming, squirming kid out of the bar. The people there all glanced around nervously; the bartender, who was scrubbing a glass, just shook his head.

* * *

Fuu's mouth hung open. Mugen and Jin were staring at each other like they'd both grown a third head.

"So… Mugen pick-pocketed some samurai who turned out to be Jin's uncle, and the story about Jin's parents' murder was what got Mugen arrested?" asked Fuu. "Oh, geez."

"That's… that's really freaky," said Mugen. "For real, are you making this up, Jin?"

"I am not!" snapped Jin, offended.

"Sorry… go ahead and continue."

Jin lowered his head and sighed. "Of all the people to have my life inexplicitly intertwined with…" he murmured plaintively. "Well, continuing on. After my parents' murder I was taken to the dojo by Seiko, while my uncle went into hiding…"

* * *

"Nn… nn… ha!"

The sounds could have been panting or crying, but weren't. They were kata. Two boys who lived in the Mujuushin Kenjetsu dojo were leaning out the window, watching the third boy practice in the court yard.

"I sure hope I never have to fight him."

"I did, once. He hit me so hard across the head with my own bokken, I thought my head was split open. And Master Enshirou-san just laughed."

They shook their heads. All the boys in the dojo looked the same; their hair was the same length, in a uniform ponytail; they all wore black hakama and indigo kimono stamped with the Takeda mon. But somehow, they could all tell each other apart. These two boys were Saiyu and Shenji, and the boy they were watching was Jin.

Jin had been at the dojo for seven years. The rumor was, his parents were dead and his uncle was paying for his training. Not that he needed training, said most. His parents were samurai themselves, and Jin seemed to have a natural talent for it. Or maybe it was just his practicing. He spent all day in the courtyard, doing standard kata in anticipation for his kenjetsu lessons later. Everyone knew he was Enshirou's favorite. He'd even fought with Enshirou. And Mariya Enshirou was a man who'd fought a thousand times and never been beaten, or so the rumor was. Letting a twelve-year-old fight with him was quite unheard of.

"He's kind of a freak, if you ask me."

"I dunno." Saiyu shrugged. "I heard he saw his parents murdered. That's probably what messed him up."

"I heard he only found them."

"Still, that would mess me up."

"Have you noticed he never smiles or laughs? I mean, ever? His eyebrows are always down, like he's mad at something…"

"Yeah, he's mad because he saw his parents murdered."

"Well… he's still a freak."

The watched him barking out "ha!" in the empty courtyard, moving from one form to the next with unparalleled grace.

"You know Kariya?"

"Yeah, he's that guy who's always stopping by and talking with Master Enshirou-san. He creeps me out. The other day he came up to me and was asking all these questions about how skilled I was and what I was being taught…"

"He says…" Shenji broke off. "He says Master Enshirou-san is going to adopt Jin and give him the dojo."

"No way!"

"Yeah."

"Bet he won't."

"Kariya already told half the dojo. I bet Jin'll have an unfortunate accident in the next few days…"

* * *

The rain fell heavily as the boat pulled away from the dock of Ryuuyku, holding with it a few prisoners who were being released early. The city-cum-prison camp had swelled so much that they had no other choice.

Mugen watched his home fading into the hazy horizon under the brim of his hat, feeling a mixture of rage that he'd lived there so long, and sadness that he was leaving it so soon.

He lowered his head again and didn't look up until they'd reached the shore.

"Now, behave yourself…" said the guard, untying Mugen's hands.

"Hey, sure. Don't worry about me. I can take care of myself." He rubbed his hands, getting off the boat and stepping barefoot onto the dock. He walked into the seaside village, oblivious to the rain or mud. He was free, he was fourteen; he was a good fighter, and he knew how to pick-pocket. The world was filled with possibilities. The first thing he planned was revenge on the Shogun. He'd already been told, while in camp, they were hiring assassins.

"I heard they're employing the Mujuu Shinken dojo now," one man had told Mugen out of the corner of his mouth, as they toted water on a yoke slung over their shoulders. Mugen had never heard of the place. Neither had the man who'd told him about it, though; they were just passing on stories, screwing up names and information. "It's run by Mariya Enshido, the greatest samurai ever."

"Fucking Takugawa…"

He'd said it then, and repeated it now, on the docks. Suddenly he heard a soft chuckle.

He turned to see a silhouette; a man. He chuckled at Mugen, head held down, his hat's brim hiding his face.

"Not a fan of the Shogunate, hm? Got any plans, kid?"

"No," snapped Mugen. "Fucking world is against me."

"Ever thought about… maybe a career in sailing? There's big money in it."

"Sailing, huh?" mused Mugen, rubbing the stubble on his chin thoughtfully.

* * *

"Would you _please_ stop interrupting?" interrupted Fuu. "If you didn't keep butting in, Jin would be finished already!"

"But my story practically _is_ his story!" whined Mugen. "And mine's better! Mine's got pirates in it!"

Fuu chucked a medium-sized log at him, then looked to Jin to continue.

"I was sent to the dojo and trained. You know the rest…"

* * *

Enshirou's head was bowed with shame as he walked down the hall. He knew, in his heart, that Jin was right. They'd spoken. He was only a boy, but wise beyond his years. He had reacted as Enshirou had expected him to, when he'd admitted the dojo was changing its course. It wasn't his fault, he'd struggled to explain. They weren't in war-time. The schools were declining, and the only use for a sword was as an assassin. But Jin wouldn't listen. After all, his parents had been killed by assassins through the Takugawa Shogunate. For the dojo to sell out to Kariya… who would, in turn, sell out its students as assassins to work for the Tokugawa… it must have been heartbreaking. When Enshirou had told him to endure it, Jin had been silent, obedient as always. But lately he'd seemed angrier than usual, his kata with a much more… _forced_ calm.

Enshirou had spoken also with Kariya. He hated to admit it, but Jin was a threat to the dojo. Jin, who was to inherit the dojo, who cared only for the dojo and wanted nothing more than to learn the ways of the samurai. But they weren't learning the ways of the samurai, were they? No—they were assassins now. And what did an assassin do for the Shogunate, except to kill enemies of the Shogunate? Kariya had made it very, very clear what Enshirou had to do.

Enshirou ran a hand over his face, feeling sick as he pulled open the screen to Jin's room. He could hear the soft, even breathing of the sleeping boy, and see his swords lying beside him, glinting in the light.

He closed the screen with a purposeful bang.

Jin woke; he grabbed his swords. In the dark, it was impossible to tell who was where; there were several clangs as their swords met, and then a sudden, straight thrust. It wasn't the most sophisticated thrust ever, but it hit home.

Enshirou gasped and pulled back. He heard Jin gasp as well.

"Well. Your skills have improved, Jin…"

"Master!" Jin reached to catch him. Enshirou grabbed the sword's hilt, yanked it up, feeling it tearing his stomach; he tore it out, letting the blood pool pour out and spread over the floor.

* * *

"And this is where my story changes… or at least, where I stopped when I last told it," said Jin. "The rest is… nothing I'm proud of."

"What did you do?" whispered Fuu, prompting him to continue.

"I went home," said Jin.

Mugen snorted in an odd half-laugh. "You went home? You killed your sensei and just… left?"

"I was scared and confused. I had no where else to go."

"You could have written your uncle."

"I was fairly sure he was dead."

Fuu and Mugen fell silent for a moment. Then Mugen asked, "But wouldn't your house be… the first place they'd look for you?"

"I wasn't thinking clearly."

"Obviously," muttered Mugen, but let Jin resume his story.

* * *

Jin walked through grass he hadn't seen since he was barely six. His heart was throbbing with worry. He kept his hand on his sword's hilt. All he had left in the world was the clothes on his back, clothes that were stamped with the Takeda crest. He'd killed his master. Everyone in the world seemed to be after him. The Shogun, his master, and now the dojo. He didn't know what he'd deserved to be so cruelly treated by fate.

He wasn't surprised to find the house in disrepair. No one had lived there for years, except vagrants. The screens were all torn; the floor littered with trash. The flowers in the garden were dead, choked by weeds. The sand was still scattered, and the broken fountains dried up. A mouse scurried past. Jin's sword flashed. Killing the creature did not give him the satisfaction he'd hoped for.

He righted a chair that was on its side and looked around with a sense of utter loss. He had no idea what to do.

He looked down at the floor and saw specks of blood, still staining the floor.

He stumbled upstairs to his loft, feeling ready to pass out. His bed was unmade and dirty; at some point, a stranger had slept in it. He flopped down, fully clothed, on the rumpled sheets, and was fast asleep before his kimono had fluttered down to settle on his back.


	11. Chapter Ten: Samurai in Glasses

(Author's Note: This chapter has a LOT. First of all, it contains graphic sexual violence, swearing, and other adult themes, which I warned you about in the first chapter. You probably skipped over that, didn't you? Also, it reveals the mysterious identity of Jin's enemy. Apologies to my friend Shenji. Shenji's original name was, ironically, Yuki. Then I discovered Jin already had a weird relationship with a Yuki and I thought it might get confusing. I love you, Shenji, but I ran out of Japanese names to use. Lastly this contains my favorite passage in the entire freakin' story, which I'll highlight here cause I'm just so darn proud of it: "sunny tatami floor, stained red with blood and yellow with sunshine pouring in through broken screens, mountains split and oceans crumpled." Woot! Go me! This chapter also contains the phrase, "Samurai don't need hugs," but you'd already know that if you'd stop reading these dumb annotations and continue reading the actually story.)

CHAPTER TEN

He knelt by the sand that morning, just as his parents had so many years ago. If anyone had walked by, they'd have thought Suoh was resurrected. Jin, in his father's clothes, with his head bowed so only his dark hair showed, looked identical. His weapons hung from his obi at the same angle.

He knelt there, resting on his heels, and stared at the sand. It made him think of the beach, and the ocean, stretching out endlessly, just like the world and its possibilities. There was an endless arrangement of sand, each grain fitting into place to create the patch that sat before him.

He thought about his parents; his father's gruff ways, inviting him to spar and slowing down to let him last longer; his mother, laughing when the wind caught the linen and she had to chase the sheets that were floating away down the hill. He wondered.

By the time he stood, the sun was high in the sky. He went back inside. A man was sitting there at his table, wearing the same kimono as him, his feet on the table.

Jin drew his sword.

"Shenji?" he asked uncertainly.

"That's me." Shenji removed his feet from the table. "I thought I'd find you here. Everyone's searching, you know. The whole dojo. You killed him, didn't you?"

"It was an accident!" protested Jin weakly.

"How'd you kill him, huh, Jin? We're kids. You shouldn't have stood a chance."

"I don't know. It was a mistake. I didn't even know it was him…"

"They'll kill you when they find you. You're a murderer, you know. And a traitor. Just like your parents."

"Don't talk about my parents!" shouted Jin.

"Calm down, Jin. I'm not here to fight. I'm not going to kill you." He examined his nails. "In fact, if you look closely, I'm completely unarmed."

Jin lowered his sword. "Why, Shenji?" he asked. For the first time, he felt more hopeful. Shenji wasn't here to kill him. Shenji wasn't after him, like everyone else. Maybe—just maybe, for the first time in his life, he had a friend.

"There's worse things than death, Jin. Not everyone gets that. There's other things. Like loss. I know it, you know it, even Kariya knows it. You know Kariya Kagetoki. We're pretty good friends, him and I. We've known loss. Because of _you_. Master Enshirou-san loved you, you know. He would have given you anything. Jin, the talented little orphan. He ignored us. We weren't perfect, like you. Never mind that we worked twice as hard. We just weren't as _talented_. He probably never even thought of giving _me_ the dojo." Shenji's nose scrunched up for a moment as he picked a piece of dirt from under his thumbnail. "Oh, he'll kill you, Kariya will. Now that you've killed Master Enshirou-san, neither of us can be named the successor of the dojo. Thanks a lot, by the way."

"I'm sorry!" cried Jin. "He was trying to kill me and I defended myself! I didn't know it was him until—until—"

"I don't care, okay, Jin? You've ruined everything. Not just now. Your whole life you've ruined things for us. And now everyone in the dojo has an excuse to kill you. Mark my words, it'll be Kariya. Oh, he _hates_ you…"

"But you. Why are you here?" asked Jin.

Shenji rose and walked over to Jin. Jin raised his sword, then lowered it, remembering Shenji was defenseless. Shenji was so close Jin could see every hard feature. His hair was shorter than Jin's, pulled back; but his fringe still came down nearly to his eyes, cut straight, each lock creating a long rectangle that gave Jin the impression that Shenji's head was thatched. His eyes were angry, framed with a thin pair of glasses, and had large circles under them. His ears were pierced.

He held out a hand.

Jin looked down at it in surprise.

"Put away your sword, Jin, and take my hand."

Jin could have sobbed with gratefulness. He put his sword aside and took Shenji's hand; and Shenji wrenched his arm around his back and threw him to the floor, sitting on his back, straddling him like a mule. Jin yelled in surprise.

"Shenji! Get off me!"

"Thought I was your friend, right? I always thought you were stupid. Not so great without your swords, are you, Jin? You need them, don't you? That's all you have, Jin, is your swords. And what are they, except lifeless pieces of metal? Think about that."

"Let me go," demanded Jin evenly.

"No, Jin. Me and the others, we used to talk about you. 'If you could do anything you wanted to Jin, what would you do?' we'd ask. Most people just wanted to fight you and win, even kill you. But like I said, there's worse things than death. And I never wanted to kill you. I wanted to _control_ you. I wanted to disgrace you. I wanted to hurt you so bad, you'd spend the rest of your life wandering around without anything left. And now I can."

"Shenji!" cried Jin. But the conversation was over. Shenji was still holding Jin's hands, but was beginning to tug at his obi. Jin squirmed, but Shenji yanked it off and used it to tie Jin's wrists together. When he was sure Jin couldn't get loose, he began pushing up Jin's kimono and tugging at his hakama.

"Shenji!" yelled Jin again, finally realizing what was happening.

"You've never been with a woman, have you, Jin? No, of course you haven't, no one would want to lay with a freak like you."

"Shenji, let me go! I swear, I didn't mean to kill him! It was an accident!"

"This isn't even about Master Enshirou-san, Jin! Open your eyes!"

Jin squeezed them tightly shut as Shenji forced his legs open, biting down as hard as he could on his lip when the thrusts started. He didn't want to cry out, but couldn't help it; within a few minutes he was crying out like a lost child at each one. It was like sandpaper, tearing him apart from the inside. Shenji finally groaned, straining against Jin's trembling body, and relaxed, tangling his fingers in Jin's hair, pulling it out of its ponytail to fluff it.

"Hurt… didn't it?" whispered Shenji in his ear.

"Get off me," said Jin, nearly in tears.

"Don't you mean, get _out_ of you?" Shenji smirked, stroking Jin's hair with fake tenderness. "Not yet, Jin. First I want to hear you beg. I want to hear you cry and plead with me."

"I can't," said Jin in a small voice, as tears finally began coursing down his face.

"Yes, you fucking can, bitch!" Shenji jerked his hips; Jin let out a dry sob.

"Okay, okay! I'll do anything you want! Please, Shenji-san, let me go. You've beaten me. Please, I—I beg for mercy."

Shenji settled comfortably on top of Jin, resting his chin on Jin's shoulder and still fondling his hair. "Did you know you have really soft hair?" he whispered.

Jin sobbed in reply, finally breaking. "Please, _please_, stop touching me," he cried, turning his head away. Shenji smiled and kept caressing his hair, running his fingers behind Jin's ears like he was a dog, while Jin whimpered pathetically.

"Listen to you, you little bitch. You're nothing without your swords. You can't even stop me from touching your face." He demonstrated, running a hand over Jin's moist cheek. "That's sad, Jin. Really sad."

Jin just cried in reply. Shenji finally lifted his hips off Jin and wiped himself on the back of Jin's kimono. "Nasty," Jin heard him mutter quietly to himself. Jin didn't have to crane his neck to see the blood; he could smell it.

Jin rested his cheek on the floor and tried to control his heavy breathing, feeling sick and exposed. He didn't have time to recuperate; Shenji grabbed his loose hair and yanked him to his knees.

"I'm not done with you, Jin. Not by a long shot. We have hours before anyone else comes here. Don't worry, I'll give you plenty of a head-start. Hell, I'll even lie for you, and tell them you weren't here. I don't want you to die, Jin. You don't deserve that."

Jin swayed on his knees, staring at the floor, a circle framed with black hair. A pool of bright red blood was spreading… spreading… and he was kneeling in it. His blood. Not his parents', not his master's, his, on this floor already stained… sunny tatami floor, stained red with blood and yellow with sunshine pouring in through broken screens, mountains split and oceans crumpled.

"I want you to swallow, Jin," said Shenji in a low voice. He grabbed Jin's chin and yanked his head up, so they were eye-to-eye. "I want you to fucking _enjoy_ yourself, like the bitch you are. You're going to like it. And if you even _think_ of biting…" He stretched to grab Jin's sword; he pointed it at Jin's crotch. "I'm gonna cut off everything you have left. Got it?"

"Yes," gasped Jin. He hadn't even thought of that; he was beyond thinking, beyond plotting, beyond fighting. He wanted to lie down and die. But he couldn't; he was being held up, having Shenji force himself into him for the second time; and this time even worse, he was responding, groaning weakly because he had no other choice. And all the time Shenji's hands were tangled in his hair, stroking, rooting deeper…

"I'm not really sure when he left. He was there hours, I know. I just remember he said something about… about never wanting to show my face again. 'You'll need these,' he said, and threw his glasses down on the floor next to me. Then he left. I think I passed out."

* * *

The fire had died down so that it was little more than glowing ashes, but no one moved to grab wood. Mugen and Fuu sat next to each other, across from Jin with their mouths hanging slightly open. Jin stared straight up at the stars, talking more to himself than to them. His voice was no longer calm, but shaking slightly, barely controlled. He was blinking furiously as he stared at the stars.

"Oh… Jin," whispered Fuu. She rose and went to his side. She reached out, but his shoulder twitched violently and he pulled away. He folded her hands in her lap, looking sorrowful.

"The… the glasses," said Mugen uncertainly. "Are those…?"

"Yes." Jin finally tore his gaze away from the stars and pulled off the glasses he always wore. He offered them to Fuu. She took them and turned them over in her hands.

"Jin," she said quietly. "Can I please hug you?"

Jin lowered his head. "I'm a samurai. I don't need hugs," he said darkly, his vulnerability vanishing.

"You weren't a samurai when… when all that happened. You were still in training, technically, weren't you? I mean—you weren't even eighteen yet."

"Can _I _give you a hug?" blurted Mugen. Neither Fuu nor Jin was sure if it was a joke, but both laughed anyways, because there was something in the way he said it that broke the tension in the air.

Fuu leaned over and put her arms around Jin. He was as stiff as a rock and didn't hug back. She thought he was just barely tolerating it. When they separated, she handed him back the glasses. He put them back on.

"So why do you wear them, if Shenji tortured you?" asked Mugen. Fuu had to admire the way he'd changed the wording subtlety to spare Jin the embarrassment.

"As a reminder," said Jin darkly. "That's why I'm on the road. I have more than one enemy in this world. But I'm seeking only one. I'll find Shenji someday. I know he's out there, probably on the run. He knows me. He knows I'll want revenge."

"So your whole motivation for this journey is to find a guy you haven't seen in years and kill him?"

"No," said Jin, eyes narrowing. "Not to kill him. There are things worse than death."

"Oh, Jin!" cried Fuu.

"When I find him, I'm going to do to him what he did to me. It's going to be a hundred times worse for him. He's going to wish he was never born. I'll make him fucking cry."

It was the first time either Mugen or Fuu had heard Jin swear. He rarely let his passions go; he spoke very little and chose his words carefully.

"Damn, Jin," said Mugen after a moment. "So… when you told us you were just wandering around, running away, whatever you want to call it, you've actually had a direction this whole time?"

"Yes," said Jin.

"Jin, that's terrible! You can't—you can't do that. You'd just be acting just like the monster Shenji is."

"I don't care," he said flatly.

"Jin, come on. Seriously, man. Think about it. You're trying to bang a dude. When you're sixty, do you want to look back at your life and say, 'gee, I spent twenty years looking for a guy to fuck?'"

"I don't care," repeated Jin.

There was another long silence.

"I never got my hug," said Mugen after a moment. This time, Fuu and Jin knew he was joking, and laughed appreciatively.

"Well," said Jin finally. "When I woke, it was only an hour before sunset, and I knew at any moment they might come for me. I was in… no condition to travel. I could barely stand. I thought at that point I should commit seppuku…"

"You were gonna kill yourself?" asked Mugen.

"Yes. I'd never… I wasn't very sure how to. But it seemed like the only option I had. So I knelt on the floor and opened my kimono…"

Fuu's hands went up to her face in horror. "You didn't…"

"Yes, Fuu, Jin killed himself and this is his ghost talking to us," said Mugen sarcastically.

"No, I didn't," said Jin with a small smile. "I didn't think I could hold my sword steady enough to do it. I drew a line across my stomach, thinking I could just follow it, in short cuts, if I had to. But then I…" He looked up again and talked to the stars. "I remembered seeing my father… and Master Enshirou-san… and… I couldn't do it. And I kept thinking of Shenji telling me I didn't deserve death and… I was scared."

"Hey," said Mugen gently. "You were going to. That's farther than most would've ever gotten."

Jin looked back across the fire and allowed himself a small smile. "I still have the scar."

For a moment, Fuu was struck with what a bizarre night it had been. Jin was talking uninhibitedly, swearing, smiling, even almost crying. He was displaying more emotion in telling his story than he had in possibly his entire life, letting them see every weakness, and implying the degree of trust he had invested in them.

"Okay… I gotta see this," said Mugen.

Jin ducked his head and began untying his obi. Fuu covered her eyes and peeked through her fingers when he opened his kimono. He pulled away the cloth gently to exposure his abdomen; directly below his navel was a long scar, nearly as thick as Fuu's fingers.

"Damn!" exclaimed Mugen. "I thought you said you drew a thin little _line_, that thing is ginormous."

"I _did_ draw a line. I drew a heavy line that would be easy to follow. And… it got infected. And left a scar."

"I've never seen it before," confessed Fuu, still peering through her fingers.

"I kept it hidden," he said mildly. "It's low enough… well, I'm not as shameless as Mugen."

"Heh," said Mugen unconvincingly, still staring. Fuu reached out to touch it; Jin jerked away, then, as if embarrassed by his reaction, inched back to her and held back his kimono, offering her to go ahead. She ran a finger over it; Jin's stomach twitched irritably.

"I can't believe…" began Fuu, then trailed off. Jin's eyes narrowed.

"Jin, don't worry about it. I know how it feels," said Mugen breezily.

"You have no idea how it feels," snapped Jin bitterly as he put his clothes back in place. Mugen's eyes flashed. He stood up, crossed to the others side of the fire, and sat next to Jin. Fuu noticed he tensed up. Mugen thrust his hands out, underarms facing up.

"Take a look," he said.

Jin and Fuu peered closely. Faint scars crossed Mugen's wrists.

Jin's head jerked up and he stared at Mugen with a meaningful look. They stared at each other a long time.

Then Mugen put his arms out comically, forced a pout, and asked, "Well? I'm here. Where's my damn hug?"

Fuu put a hand to her mouth and snorted. She'd accidentally created a running joke that would haunt her for the rest of the life.

Jin bowed his head and ran a hand over the top of his head to ensure his ponytail was in place. "Mugen, have you ever hugged anyone before? Ever? In your life?" he asked with mild disgust

"Nope!" said Mugen cheerfully. "But there's a first time for everything, isn't there? Come here, man." With gentle gruffness, he pulled Jin to him. For a moment Jin was tense; then Fuu saw him relax visibly, putting his arms around Mugen and laying his head on Mugen's shoulder. Mugen looked shocked. He gave Fuu a panicked look over Jin's shoulder, as if to ask what to do. Fuu motioned frantically to let him rest. She couldn't see Jin's face, but knew instinctively that his eyes were closed and he needed a moment of safe peace before he continued. The embrace lasted for far longer than she'd expected. Mugen had a funny look on his face the whole time. But when Jin pulled away, he was smiling—though Fuu saw him wipe his eyes behind his glasses when he thought no one was watching.


	12. Chapter Eleven: Jin's Story Ends

(Author's Note: The End of Jin's Story! Phew, finally! Please leave reviews if you've gotten his far… I really think I'm picking up momentum. No more chapters for another few days… I want REVIEWS, damn it! Warnings about future chapters… the worst is mostly over, but there is one very disturbed scene where Mugen gets curious about his sexuality in the next chapter. If you are someone who dislikes that stuff, such as Eminem, please stop reading. Eminem, if you_ are_ reading this, get off your lazy butt and go make another CD for people like me who like your charming, street-style beats.)

CHAPTER ELEVENEVEN

Jin collapsed forward on the ground, his stomach and lower back throbbing. It felt like his insides were expanding, pushing out all the blood inside. Certainly, it seemed that way. The floor was a veritable lake, with him an island in the middle, too weak to move from it, too weak even to complete seppuku.

He laughed bitterly. No one had ever told him how to complete seppuku, anyways. He had only a vague idea of cutting left-to-right, and he knew it should be in one slash, not several, but he couldn't possibly do it… not when he thought of his own father, insides spilled out over this very floor… Enshirou, tearing his sword upwards, spraying him with blood.

Jin turned his head to vomit. He could just lie there, he thought, let them find him and kill him. But no… they wouldn't slay him where he lay. They'd force him up, drag him back to the dojo. Everyone would see him, weak, stumbling, blood running down his legs and stomach. His family honor would be destroyed forever. He cried. He didn't care if he wasn't supposed to, he needed to. He hated honor, and he hated how confusing this was. He had never put a toe out of line, not in his entire life, and look where it had gotten him.

He pushed himself up to his hands and knees, and lay there over his blood, panting like a dog. Then, slowly, propping himself against the wicker couch, he rose unsteadily to his feet. He couldn't let them see him. It was more than he could bear, being paraded around in front of everyone, bleeding and drooling with nausea like this.

He turned his head and saw his obi lying there. It had taken him a long time to get it off his hands, after Shenji had left. It was soaked.

He reached for it and tied it around his stomach. It was throbbing, pumping blood all over him. He'd cut deeper than he meant to. He tried to assure himself that he could rip it open later, on his own time, but…

He got his swords and tied them inelegantly to his obi. He left his kimono open. He wobbled to the door. The sun was nearly set. He should have left already. But he couldn't force himself to go any faster; each step sent bolts of pain tearing up his back and searing through his stomach. He was practically gagging with pain. By the time he'd left the house and started down the hill, he had fallen into a routine of breathing; a sharp breath in, a low groan out.

He paused and turned. His house stood innocently on its hill, the peach tree leaning magnificently to the south. He bowed his head and closed his eyes. So many horrible things had happened there, but it was his home. He would miss it. He would miss it because it was there he learned to read, sitting in his father's lap pouring over old scrolls, and there he'd learned to cook, leaning over his mother's shoulder inquisitively to taste the stew she was making. It was there he watched his parents, their fighting and their dancing unidentifiable as either; there he'd heard wind-chimes and played with Yori and practiced kata for the first time in the tall grass.

He forced himself to continue downhill, turning his back on the house that was unfortunate to have so many bad things happen inside it. He resumed his breathing, a gasp and a moan, occasionally punctuated with rapid bouts of panting and whimpering.

He waded across the field, away from the city. He could not go there. He would run away. Far away. So far away that no one would know what the diamonds on his kimono meant.

"Swift as the wind, silent as the forest, fierce like the fire, steadfast like the mountain," chanted Jin as he stumbled along. "Oh, shit, _shit_!"

He collapsed on the ground and shrieked when his stomach felt the impact. White-hot fingers of pain reached through his body long after he'd fallen, tingling until it was no longer pain at all.

He rolled over and saw his house, a speck on the hill in the distance. He was amazed he'd made it so far.

He rolled onto his side and vomited before picking himself up and redirecting his path.

He had to hide his tracks and his scent. He was probably leaving a trail of blood, and indents in the grass. He walked parallel to the house, making for an old stream. He walked upriver, letting the current wash away his suffering, cleanse his clothes.

He turned when the grasses had cleared into a road. He followed the road, turned into a field, weaving through the crops, backtracking and going to follow the stream again.

It was dark by then. Still he went on. He was exhausted, but his mind was buzzing. He felt like he did after a good fight with Enshirou. He had nothing to eat, and even if he did, he wouldn't be able to stomach it. So he kept on, because there was nothing else to do. He went all night, alert, expecting at any moment for an enemy to appear. Could he fight in his condition? Yes, but he would be beaten.

The sun rose. He kept on. His wet feet slide around on his geta and his kimono hung off his like a tent, dripping and loose. His legs were slick with blood, and his obi had stiffened, moist and clinging painfully to him, like a parasite.

Finally, it was nearly noon when he saw a village. It was small, very small. But it looked promising.

He left the river and stumbled into down, head down, ready to pass out again. He went into the nearest teahouse; the screens and windows were all open invitingly, though there seemed to be more flies than people. There were two old men, one young man, and a girl; they were in a circle over a table, their entire bodies leaning over it, chatting excitedly. Jin stumbled into the doorway, leaning against the frame. A string of drool escaped his mouth; he was feeling nauseous again.

"Oh!" cried the girl, who spotted him first.

The young man rose, ran to him, and grabbed him just as he pitched forward. A moment later he was sitting in a chair with a wet cloth on his head and a glass of sake in front of him.

"What happened?" asked one of the old men anxiously.

"Hush!" said the girl. "Can't you see he's hurt?"

"Looks like someone slashed him across the stomach."

"The Takeda crest, see? He's probably after that kid who killed Enshirou."

"Jin," said Jin.

"Jin, that's his name. Did you meet him?"

Jin's head lolled. The girl's face came into focus, and Shenji's words rang through his head: "Never been with a woman, have you? No one would want to lay with a freak like you."

"Yes," said Jin. "He's… he's got others."

"He's got others!" repeated one of the old men. "How many?"

"Two," said Jin.

"Two! Spread the word to look for him with two others. What did they look like?"

"Stop pestering him, will you?"

"Boy, would I like to meet him," said the young man.

Jin choked out a laugh. He knew the young man was imagining him as a gallant, defiant youth, haughty and impressive-looking. No one was looking for a weak, stumbling, wet kid with glasses. It was the perfect disguise… as Shenji intended it.

Jin's laugh turned into choking. "I'm going to be sick," he said.

The girl and young man took his arms and dragged him outside, where he dry-heaved until he was too weak to continue.

"I can take care of him," she told the young man, as Jin leaned against the wall, still on his feet but sagging pathetically. "Go get the word out about the two cronies Jin's got."

The man left.

"Hold still; you're hurt."

"No," gasped Jin, pushing her hand away as she reached for his obi.

"I know you didn't meet anyone," she snapped.

Jin's hands fell. She untied the obi and peeled it from the cut on his stomach. She laid her hands on the top and bottom of it, and pushed gently; watery pus leaked out, and Jin cried out like a child.

"DAD!" she shouted suddenly. One of the old men peeked out of the teahouse.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he asked, seeing his daughter's hands in Jin's kimono.

"I'm squeezing pus out of a cut!" she snapped. "Can you bring some ointment and clean cloth?"

He disappeared.

"You did this yourself," she said wisely.

"I couldn't finish," gasped Jin. He was starting to realize he wasn't wet because of the stream, but because of sweat. He was soaked in it. "Ahh!" he cried, breathing heavily and trying not to cry as she pushed harder on his stomach.

"Hold still, there's something in there. I'll get it."

Jin shrieked bloody murder as the cut on his stomach suddenly released a glob of thick pus. The girl wiped it away without the slightest indication of disgust, just as her father returned with a basket of things for Jin.

"Poor kid," he said sympathetically. "If Enshirou couldn't kill him, what chance did you think you had?"

"_Ahh_!" wailed Jin in reply, while the girl rooted around in the cut with her fingers.

The man took this as his cue to exit. He left. The girl brushed her hands off, searched in the basket, and found what she was looking for.

"This will sting a little," she warned Jin. She couldn't tell if he even heard her; his eyes were closed, and he was hyperventilating, forehead beaded with sweat. He twitched when she began spreading the lotion over his stomach but didn't make any noise. She pulled him away from the wall and leaned him against her; she pulled off his kimono and began winding a strip of clothing around his middle. It struck her how funny they much look to the people on the street; Jin, in his huge hakama, standing there with his chin on his shoulder, eyes closed, arms dangling limply down while she wrapped him up.

She tied the cloth in back and gently stood Jin up. "I'm done," she said gently, their faces inches from each other. (She didn't think he'd notice her, otherwise.)

"Thank you," breathed Jin, swaying a little. He took a few steps away from her. Clearly he meant to be on his way. How far could he possibly get, she wondered? How far, dragging his feet with exhaustion before—

Jin tripped a little; for a spilt second he revealed his feet under his hakama. His heels were soaked in blood, and on one ankle he had a rivulet making its way down.

"Hey! Wait!" She picked up his kimono from the ground and hurried after him. "Stop! You forgot your kimono. And you can't leave, anyways, you're covered in sweat and blood. You need rest. You'll never heal if you don't rest. You need something to eat, too."

"I can't eat," he said in such a plaintive way that she felt immensely sorry for him.

"It's okay. We have rooms over the teahouse. My father owns it. Come on."

"I don't have money," he said, even more pathetically.

"That's okay," she assured him, dragging him into the teahouse. After quickly telling the old man in the house what she was doing (her father and the young man had left to share their news on the murderer), she helped Jin up the stairs. Three times they had to stop and rest.

"How did you make this far?" she asked.

"I couldn't stop," mumbled Jin, head hanging in exhaustion.

"What's your name, anyways?"

"Yori."

She laughed. "Oh… I'm sorry. It's just… I thought Yori is a girl's name."

"So is Jin."

She laughed again. "I'm Kumi. You're right, Jin is a girl's name. I never even thought about that. When I heard he killed Enshirou… well, obviously his name wasn't the first thing on my mind."

They made it to the second floor, and she dragged Jin to the nearest available room. It was actually only a straw mattress on the floor, a low table, a few cushions, and a chair, but it wasn't meant for permanent living; poor merchants used the rooms when they were passing through the village.

She pulled the chair away from the wall with her foot but Jin didn't sit. He stood swaying drunkenly with his eyelids half-closed.

"Sit," she commanded. He shook his head; instead he crossed the room and achingly lowered himself onto the mattress. He lay on his stomach; Kumi cocked an eyebrow. She thought it was odd that he would lie down on his wound.

She crossed the room after him and pulled the ends of his hakama over his feet.

"What are you doing?" he asked in alarm.

"Cleaning your feet, stop freaking out! You've got blood all over you."

He tried, she thought, for a moment to get up. But after straining for a moment he laid down meekly, breathing roughly. She stole a look at his face. He was resting on his cheek, staring at the wall through his glasses, mouth open. He looked a little like a fish, tugged out of water and dying.

She pulled off his geta and went for a bowl of water and a rag. He didn't protest when she began wiping the blood and dust off his feet.

"You walked a pretty long way, it looks like. From the Mujuushin Whatchamacallit dojo, huh? When did you get hurt?"

"Yesterday afternoon."

She whistled. "You were walking all night? No wonder…" She trailed off. She had pulled his hakama past his knees, and couldn't help noticing the blood had followed an odd pattern. The cut on his stomach was on his front, but all the blood caked onto his legs was on his calves and the inside, going down to his heels. She didn't see how…

"Yori?"

He didn't reply.

"Yori?" she repeated.

"Hmm," he said.

"That cut on your stomach isn't the only one, is it?"

"Hmm," he repeated.

"Yori, I need to know all your injuries or I can't take care of them."

He didn't respond. If his eyes weren't wide open, she would have thought he was asleep.

Kumi surveyed him. He didn't have his kimono on, so she knew he didn't have any cuts on his back. But he couldn't have any on his legs, or both wouldn't be stained. But he couldn't have one on his backside, because then his hakama would be ripped. The samurai of a thousand mysteries, she thought in annoyance.

"Yori, I'm really sorry. I'm going to have to undress you."

"No," said Jin flatly.

"You're bleeding really badly, Yori."

"No," repeated Jin. He reached for his sword before he realized that his swords were tied to his obi, and she'd taken off his obi, and it was lying on the other side of the room, on the table where she'd set it.

"Yori, I'm really serious," she warned him. "You could die. You've already lost a lot of a blood."

"I don't care anymore."

"Yes you do. If you didn't care you would have finished killing yourself instead of wandering into the village for help." She leaned over him. He wrenched away, rolling of the mattress with agility she hadn't expected. He leaped at him, tackled him, and forced him down. "Stop being so difficult!" she yelled. "Let me undress you!"

"No!" shouted Jin.

"Take them off!"

"No!"

Another girl poked her head into the room, grinning wickedly. "Kumi, did I just hear what I thought I heard?"

Kumi blushed when she realized what she had been saying, and that she was lying on top of Jin, who was half-naked. "I'm sorry," she said.

"Just make sure Dad doesn't catch you." She closed the screen behind her, leaving Jin and Kumi frozen in their awkward position.

"At least tell me what happened," said Kumi finally.

"No."

"How'd you get hurt?"

"No."

"Can't you say anything other than no?"

"No."

Kumi didn't want to manhandle him, but she was beginning to think she might just have to pin him down and forcibly remove his clothes.

"Listen," she said finally. "We can do this the hard way or the easy way. You can either let me help you now, or wait until you're about to die of an infection and then have a whole room of people gawking at you. It's up to you."

Jin faced her, sitting on the floor. Not sitting, exactly, but perched on his feet in a bizarre kneeling crouch.

Jin considered. He felt too tired to think, but forced himself. He had just met Kumi. She didn't know he was Jin. Would she figure it out? What were the chances? Weeks from now, would she be telling the patrons of the teahouse about Jin, the great Jin who'd killed Enshirou and come in bleeding and stumbling? Or would she be telling them that she'd met Yori, and the bleeding was Jin's fault? Did he want to be a victim or a rapist? As long as she didn't know he was Jin, he was safe.

"Do many people come through this village?" he asked.

"No. Just merchants. We're not exactly a big city." She smiled.

"But how do you already have the news about Master Enshirou-san?"

"Some guys came through here this morning, wearing the same thing as you. They told us what happened and described this Jin to us. But he's probably far away from here by now. I don't think they would come back unless we had a perfect Jin-look-alike chained up by his thumbs for them." She added quickly, "We can go get some of them for you, though, if you want—"

"No!" said Jin sharply. "No, no. I… I don't want anyone from the dojo to see me like this."

"I understand," she said soothingly. "You don't have to worry about anyone bothering you here. Just let me take care of you, and you can go back in a few days and tell your little story about Jin and his two pals. Does he have two people with him, by the way, or did you just make that up?"

"No, it's true," said Jin hastily.

"Anyways, no one from your dojo is around for miles. So you might as well let me look at you. I won't say anything, okay? You don't even have to tell me how it happened."

Jin bowed his head. "And… and you promise not to speak of it, ever, to anyone?"

"I promise, Yori."

Jin took a deep, shaky breath. "And you won't… won't ask about it?"

"Not if you don't want me to."

Jin took another deep breath. "Okay," he said in a small voice. "But…" He never finished. He crashed face-forward onto the floor, passed out. It was for the best; he wasn't conscious to hear Kumi's gasp of horror when she finally wrestled him out of his clothes, nor awake to feel her hands on his already violated body.

* * *

Just as Kumi promised, she didn't speak a word to anyone, including Jin. Jin stayed there two days, on his mattress, wrapped in heavy sheets, sleeping and taking only thin broths for food. Kumi's father, the owner of the teahouse, offered to go get some students from the dojo to help him back, but he reacted so violently to the idea that they assured him they wouldn't and didn't bring up the subject again. The word spread in the small village that there was a student of the dojo whose master had been killed, and all wanted a peek at him; but they barred all visitors. Jin decided to leave after only a few days. He thanked Kumi without looking in her eyes and left the village with his head hung down, trying to hide his face, holding his swords and his heart hammering with fear. But no one recognized him as Jin; later, they would only describe him as "that samurai kid with glasses."

Kumi watched him leaving; with a sudden burst of emotion she ran after him. "Yori!" she shouted.

He turned at the beginning of the road ahead of him, watching her run out of the village after him. "Yori!" she panted, running up to him.

"Yes?"

"I—I—"

She blushed violently, stood on her tip-toes, and pressed their lips together. Jin looked startled. Kumi looked at the ground, embarrassed, before running back home. Jin turned his back on her and went off down the road, wondering why he hadn't felt anything after receiving his first kiss.


	13. Chapter Twelve: The Kiss

(Author's Note: Guy-on-guy action here, sorry. I'm not sure what came over me. Maybe I should stop listening to my gay best friend "Mugen _must_ be gay… I'm _sure_ of it" props, Wagel. Anywho, not much happens but there's an intense look at the sexuality of the "guys" so piss off if you don't like it. Oh, yes, and sorry about spelling "eleven" "elevenvenven" in the last chapter… too lazy to correct it.)

CHAPTER TWELVE

"I went from town to town, distancing myself from the city," said Jin quietly, staring at the fire. Mugen had had enough sense to roll a log onto it while Jin was speaking, so it had blazed up once more. The light flickered over his face. "For the first few weeks I went by an alias. Then I got sick of it, and went back to using my real name. It hardly mattered. By then, there was so much time and distance between me and what had happened, no one recognized me. And whenever I heard myself referred to, it was as 'that samurai with glasses.' No one associated the Enshirou-killing Jin with glasses. They were the perfect disguise. And I saw the world through them. After a year I realized I didn't want to just wander. I wanted a purpose. And what greater purpose could I have than finding Shenji? After all, the rest of my enemies aren't so… real, if you know what I mean. The Shogun, the Kariya-dono, the Takugawa… none are a single person. They're all just organizations. But Shenji is a single man, a single, evil man. He's something I can find, hurt, and avenge myself with. And that's what I plan to do."

He nodded firmly.

"Wow," said Mugen.

"Is that going to be your final version of your life story?" asked Fuu. "Or are you going to come up with something even more awful later?" Even though her voice was hard, her hands were twisting themselves in her lap, and her eyebrows were knitted with concern.

Jin smiled slightly. "That's it. That's _all_ of it. There's nothing more horrible in my past than what you've just heard."

"Yo. Fuu," said Mugen. He grinned at the fire. "You know what? You picked out two samurai to help you on your quest, but you picked the worst ones possible. I mean, look, both of us are wanted by the Takugawa and the Shogunate and at least a dozen independent assassins each. You've got a couple of wanted murderers protecting you." He laughed.

Fuu smirked. "Yeah, well, at least I know you can get the job done…"

Mugen stood up and stretched. "Look, I can't really sleep. I think I'm going to, you know, take a walk or whatever. Jin?"

Jin looked up, as if startled out of deep thoughts. "Yes?"

"I said, I'm going to take a walk. You want to come with?"

"Oh." Jin rose and stretched as well; he'd been sitting in front of the fire for a long time, leg crossed (the other had been stretched out, of course), body hunched and motionless. He followed Mugen into the shelter of the woods, limping along painfully, and Fuu sighed. She went over to the fire and began feeding it twigs; she didn't think she would be sleeping either.

* * *

"So," Mugen trailed along, scuffing the toes of his geta against the ground. Jin walked after him, stiffly, lighting a pipe. "Can I have a puff of that thing? Thanks."

They walked along in silence. Mugen had to make sure he didn't walk too quickly; Jin had trouble navigating his way through the thick woods on his poor leg. Leaves crunched under their feet.

"Don't you ever feel weird, wearing that guy's glasses all the time?" asked Mugen finally.

"No."

"Do you think about him a lot?"

"Yes."

Mugen stopped and leaned against a tree. "Look… Jin…"

"Go ahead and ask it."

"You won't be offended?"

"No."

"You basically… okay, look, you basically lost your virginity to a guy. And I know you've been with girls and stuff, but… I mean, what's it like? Are you, you know?"

"I don't think so," said Jin flatly. "I think I would know something like that. I don't see how that… how it would change how I feel about one or the other."

Mugen shrugged. "I don't know. It's just… I sort of always thought you were."

Jin raised his eyebrows.

"No offense, but, you just seem so, you know."

"Self-controlled?" suggested Jin sardonically.

"Yeah, but not just that. Like you never looked at Fuu or anything. Or any girls. And whenever I talked about them, you just looked totally grossed out."

"I fell in love with Shino."

"Yeah, that was weird…"

"I'm disgusted by your lack of manners and subtly, not by the woman themselves."

Mugen looked up thoughtfully, hands in his pockets. "I guess that's the reason you're not so into it, huh? What happened?"

"Maybe," said Jin.

"Have you ever wondered, though? I mean, you're searching for this guy to… you know… damn, Jin, that's just weird."

"I'm not doing it as an act of love," said Jin coldly.

"Yeah I know. But it's still… kind of…" Mugen shrugged. He took a hand from his pocket, reached up, and began plucking leaves off the tree. "Have you ever looked at other guys?"

"Have you?" countered Jin.

Mugen laughed. "_Me_? What kind of question is that?"

"A good one, seeing as you're avoiding answering it."

"I'm not avoiding answering it!" said Mugen hotly.

"Yes, you are. And while I'm mentioning it, I might also point out you've taken me into the middle of the woods to discuss whether I look at men in the same way I look at women. I would say you're the one with the hidden motives."

He couldn't see Mugen face very clearly in the dark but had a good idea of what it looked like.

"I'm just asking, Jin. You don't have to get personal."

"You still haven't answered my question."

"You haven't answered mine, either, and I asked first!"

Jin smirked into the darkness. "I'll admit I was… confused for a while. Very confused."

"But you're not anymore?"

"You sound disappointed."

"Damn, Jin, stop it, will you?"

"I was only stating what I thought true. I'm sorry if I've offended you." Jin counted to three in his head before he pressed, "Well?"

"Well, what?" snapped Mugen.

"Have you?"

There was a long, long silence. Jin smoked; Mugen plucked leaves from a branch above his head.

"Okay… yeah. Maybe a few times. But look, I see so many girls, you know, sometimes I get bored and start wondering about other things."

He heard Jin snicker.

"Shut up! I've never done anything, I just wonder, that's all! I'm a curious person! And you'd better not tell anyone, or I'll kick your ass!"

"I won't. I trust you to keep my secrets, and I'll keep yours," Jin assured him.

"Hey, Jin?"

"Yes?"

Mugen paused. "You're my best friend."

"You're my best friend, too. I'm glad we met."

"I thought you hated me."

"I think you're the crudest, most unsophisticated person I've ever met. But you have several redeeming qualities."

"Like what?" pressed Mugen eagerly.

"Mortality."

"…oh." Mugen laughed after a moment. He walked to Jin, leaning against a tree next to him. He held out his hand; Jin handed him his pipe. They smoked together, passing it back and forth.

"Is there any reason why you wanted to know if I had questioned my sexuality, Mugen?"

"Just wondering."

"Like you wonder at men?"

"Shut up, Jin. I'll kick your ass."

"How old were you?"

"What?"

"How old were you, the first time you made love?"

"Eleven, I guess. The girl was like nine or ten. We were street kids. We fucked in an alleyway. It wasn't exactly magical but I got the job done, like Fuu said."

"It sounds nice," said Jin sadly.

Mugen handed him his pipe and gazed into the darkness. He felt an odd, heavy sadness for Jin. He held out his hand absent-mindedly for the pipe, but Jin had put it away already. Mugen dropped his hand and accidentally brushed Jin's.

"Sorry," they said in unison.

Mugen stuffed his hand into his pocket and scuffed the ground with his toe. "I'm really sorry, man, about what happened."

"Me too."

"Did you have any plans or anything? You know, a special girl?"

"No. I had thought about it once or twice. I never thought it'd happen like it did." Half-heartedly, he added, "Well, I don't know if it counts or not. I didn't…"

"Yeah, I understand."

Mugen pulled his hand out of his pocket and reached up to scratch his head contemplatively. When he dropped his hand, it brushed Jin's again. "Sorry," he said. But Jin didn't say anything; he glanced down, then looked at Mugen closely in the dark. "What?" demanded Mugen angrily.

Jin gently took Mugen's hand. "Do you mind?"

Mugen swallowed. "No, that's okay."

Jin laced their fingers together. They stood for several minutes side by side, their backs against the trees, holding hands. Jin had his eyes half-closed, deep in thought. Mugen stared into the blackness, listening to the occasional hoot of an owl.

"When I was a kid I knew this girl. We were both about fourteen. Man, she was the craziest girl I ever knew. She could rob you blind, even steal the hat off your head. She knew her stuff. We worked together a lot and would fuck afterward. She went around with other guys but I didn't really care. We were just friends, you know? As close as friends can be, when they're on the street like that. I guess we saw each other a couple times a week. We weren't really anything but friends."

"What happened?"

"To her, you mean? I think she got arrested. Or maybe she went to a whorehouse. Or both, who knows?"

"I see. And… was there a point to that story?"

"Nope. I was just remembering." Mugen crossed one leg over the other, still leaning against the tree. "With us and Fuu, it's a real… you know… that fancy word for crazy relationships with three people."

"Ménage-a-trois," said Jin.

"That's it."

"It's not a ménage-a-trois unless we're actually making love with each other. Is there something between you and Fuu I don't know about?"

Mugen laughed. "No, nothing. And you're not…?"

"No, I thought you were."

"She's a kid, anyways."

"Hmm."

The conversation ended, and they went back to their thoughtful silence, Mugen staring and Jin with his eyes half-closed.

Mugen rubbed his thumb against Jin's hand. Jin jumped.

"Sorry," said Mugen.

Jin shook his head, head turned toward Mugen. Mugen waited to see if he would lean his head back again but he didn't. After a moment, he began rubbing his thumb across the back of Jin's hand again. Jin leaned his head back with a soft sigh.

"Experiencing that curiosity again, Mugen?"

"No!" said Mugen sharply, stopping.

"You didn't have to stop." Jin hesitated. "It felt nice."

"Really?"

"Yes."

Mugen resumed gently rubbing Jin's hand. "I don't want to fuck. I'm just saying, right now, I don't want to fuck a guy. Or… any of that."

"I understand."

"It's just… sometimes I sort of… feel like I want to..." Mugen shrugged, then figured out that it was too dark to see him shrugging and Jin wasn't even looking at him. "Ever just wanted to not fuck? Is that weird?"

"No."

"Do you get what I mean?"

"Yes. You want affection without sex. That's normal, Mugen."

"And it's not…?"

"I don't know. There are different kinds of affection. Holding my hand is different from…"

"Fucking?"

"Yes. Thank you. 'Fucking' was the word I needed."

"That's not what I want. I mean… you trust me and I trust you. We're best friends. And neither of really… has anyone. We can pay for cheap thrills. But… you ever had the thing where you wanted to, you know, hold someone or something?"

Jin smiled in the dark. "I had no idea you were so romantic."

"Shut up. I'm serious." He hesitated. "Jin, you ever kissed a guy?"

"Once."

"Not Shenji."

"No."

"Me neither."

"Do you _want_ to?"

"I wanted to try it, just once. To see what it's like." Mugen searched Jin anxiously in the dark. "Is that okay?"

"I think I've had more men propose to me than women," said Jin to himself.

"Jin?"

"You just wanted to try it once?"

"Yeah. Just one time. You know, you wonder about that stuff. But I never could… well, I didn't want everyone thinking I was queer."

"And now you want to test it on me, since I've already been disgraced beyond all description and therefore won't betray you?" asked Jin.

"Yes, exactly… no! No, that's not what I meant. Never mind."

Mugen released Jin's hand, but Jin clung on. "Mugen, you can. If you want," he said quietly. "And if you want to… be affectionate, that's okay. But nothing else." He said the last three words forcefully, and with good reason.

"Oh, no. I wouldn't," said Mugen hastily. "But just once I can…?"

"Yes. Once. But I'm not going to be your plaything, Mugen. I'm your friend."

"Thanks, man." Mugen hesitated. He wanted to, but he had a heavy stone of anxiety in his stomach. He'd never actually thought it would happen. Like how he'd always wanted to swim in a pool of gold. It made him feel nervous.

"Would you like me to start?" asked Jin quietly.

"Yeah, could you?"

Jin turned and put two fingers on Mugen's cheek. He angled Mugen's head toward him and brushed their lips together. So close, Mugen could see Jin's pale face in the dark; his eyes were closed. He closed his eyes as well; at first he let their lips press together without much movement, but then he began rooting around with his mouth, as gently as he could, considering he'd never been a terribly gentle person. Jin let him take the lead. Mugen was thankful; he was suddenly aware that their hands were hanging between them, fingers still loosely intertwined. He parted Jin's lips with his tongue and slid his tongue into Jin's mouth, feeling around slowly and sucking Jin's tongue. Jin pushed back just as gently with his own tongue. The hair on the back of Mugen's neck stood up; he pulled away. Jin followed him for a moment, gently biting his lower lip before the kiss broke.

"Wow," gasped Mugen. "That was… really good." His voice cracked.

"You liked it?" asked Jin, as collected as always.

"It was incredible," choked out Mugen. "Does that make me queer?"

"Tits or cock, Mugen?"

"Tits."

"You're fine."

Mugen breathed out a sigh of relief and ran a hand through his hair. He wished, a little, that he hadn't gotten tongue involved. He felt really uncomfortable now. "And, just to be sure, you're okay if I… you know…?"

"If you're affectionate," said Jin. "But Mugen?"

"Yeah?"

"The first time I feel your cock, I'll cut it off. That's a promise."

"Damn, Jin. I wouldn't do that. You can trust me."

"Nothing sexual," said Jin.

"No, nothing, I promise."

"Good."

Mugen looked down. He took Jin's hand again (he'd let go after the kiss had broken) and gave him a gentle tug. "Let's go back."

Jin let Mugen lead him back to the fire. They laid down at the edge of the woods, backs against trees, hands in Mugen's lap. Fuu was lying on the other side of the fire; her eyes opened a crack, then closed. Mugen wasn't the only one who was confused that night.


	14. Chapter Thirteen: Speaking in Riddles

(Author's Note: This chapter may seem like a lot of pointless dialogue, but to the shrewd reader, if you look deep enough, you'll realize it's actually a lot of pointless dialogue. No, seriously, it is. But I included it anyway because it helps highlight Mugen's subtle cunning, which is usually overlooked in fanfics, as well as his sensitive romantic side. I don't know if he actually has a sensitive side, but I like to think he does. Also, the part with the riddles was actually where I drew inspiration for "Cure for the Hiccups." Go read that... it's funny and far better than this.)

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

"Hey, Jin?" Mugen nudged Jin's shoulder.

Jin yawned and looked around blearily. "What time is it?"

"Oh… you know, dawn." Mugen smiled.

"You didn't sleep at all, did you?"

"No."

Jin looked at the sky. "Dawn" was an exaggeration. There were still stars out; the sky was tinted a magnificent blue, the kind one only sees an hour before sunrise. The trees whispered as a wind blew through them.

"Why did you wake me up?"

"I wanted to…" Mugen hesitated.

"You want to _cuddle_," said Jin, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Mugen looked horrified. "No I don't!"

"Admit it. You woke me up so we can cuddle before Fuu wakes up. Say it."

"I do _not_ want to… to cuddle!"

"In that case, I'll just go back to sleep." Jin took his hand away from Mugen, folded his arms, and settled back down. Mugen twisted his hands together anxiously.

"Jin, knock it off!"

"Shh, Mugen. Let me sleep," said Jin without opening his eyes.

"_Jin_!"

Jin ignored him.

"Okay! Okay, I'll say it if you stop ignoring me."

Jin opened one eye and his face twisted into a slow smile. "Go ahead."

"I woke you up… because… so that we can… cuddle." His eyes flashed. "I _swear_, if you ever tell _anyone_…"

"I won't," said Jin lazily, rolling over and wrapping his arms around Mugen. "That would be self-incriminating." Mugen was lying with his back against his tree, legs stretched out in front of him; Jin had curled up next to him and put his arms around him. Mugen reached up and absent-mindedly ran a hand over Jin's hair. Jin jerked back.

"Sorry," said Mugen quickly. "You don't…?"

"No, it's okay. I'm sorry. I'm not used to…" Jin laid his head down on Mugen's chest. "Go ahead."

Mugen tentatively began stroking Jin's hair. Jin closed his eyes.

"Can I untie it?"

Jin looked torn. He nodded finally, looking a bit apprehensive; he clung to Mugen as he slowly undid Jin's hair, letting it fall down over his back. He gently combed it with his fingers. "If you feel uncomfortable, I'll stop."

"I'm fine," replied Jin, eyes squeezed tightly shut. The truth was, it did feel nice, but it reminded him so strongly of Shenji. Mugen's hands had a very different feel, but it took a lot of getting used to; he never untied his hair, not while bathing, not even while having sex. The only time it ever came untied was to be retied, and a few times on accident in battle. He tried to focus on the differences between the ways they stroked his hair, but it took a long time for him to slow his heartbeat and relax his grip on Mugen.

"How's that?" murmured Mugen, petting Jin.

"Good," purred Jin. "No one would believe this if they saw it."

"Yeah, and if they ever asked me, I'd tell them I had a twin."

"If you want my opinion—"

"I don't."

"One Mugen is too many, let alone two."

"Thanks a lot, Jin."

They fell silent and for a long time just listened to the soft waking of birds. Both fell into a kind of stupor, Mugen thinking furiously about everything he'd learned and experienced and… _felt_. He hated to admit it but he felt a lot. And Jin—stoic, collected, focused Jin—felt all of it too. Maybe even more. Jin's story had said something that Mugen couldn't quite point to, but something deeply, deeply significant. They were both vulnerable; they were both deeply wounded by their pasts, even if neither would ever admit it. And their stories were so deeply intertwined… well. It practically made them brothers. Mugen had never felt bonded to anyone before. It scared him, but also gave him an odd sense of power, like he might have felt if he acquired a solid gold brick. Or that swimming pool of gold.

"What are you two doing?"

"Huh?"

Both started; Mugen practically threw Jin off of him. Fuu sat up blearily, rubbing her eyes and yawning.

"It's not what it looks like, I swear! I was half-asleep, I didn't even realize what I was doing! I don't even like him, he was just there, it was all his fault!" cried Mugen, dancing on the spot like some sort of deranged, irate farm bird. Fuu stared at him blankly.

"Sheesh, you two are hopeless," she said, deciding that this was one of those situations she should just not touch. She stretched again with a groan and a yawn.

Jin touched his hair self-consciously, tried to rise, and fell back onto the ground with a cringe of pain. Fuu went to help him; Mugen was too self-conscious to touch him.

* * *

The fight the previous day and Jin's story had changed everything. Jin let himself lean on Fuu; they made much better time once he finally agreed to let her help him walk. But though they were traveling better, the atmosphere had never been more awkward. It was as if a thick, tangible blanket had been laid over their mouths. Fuu and Mugen couldn't speak without wondering if it would sound wrong; and Jin, as usual, didn't speak at all. 

Finally, Mugen said, "Hey. So. Know what I could really go for?"

There was a pause.

"Women?" guessed Jin finally.

"Uh, yeah. But I was thinking something I could eat."

"You could eat—"

"Ew, gross, stop it!" Fuu stuck out her tongue and scrunched up her face. Just once, she'd have liked to go a few hours without any sick little comments from the "guys."

"Good point. But still, know what I could go for? Some sashimi. Doesn't sashimi sound good?"

"What is it with you and seafood?"

"Well, you know what they say about fish…" said Jin. He and Mugen laughed; Fuu looked confused for a moment, then went back to looking grossed out.

"I'd like some domburi," said Jin after they'd finished snickering at Fuu.

"Ohh, don't talk about food… please," she begged.

"Okay… so… if you were a tree… what kind of tree would you be?"

"Are you retarded or something?" demanded Fuu.

"I'm trying to be social!"

"Well… I'd be a cherry tree. But I still think that's the dumbest thing you've ever said."

Mugen frowned and rubbed his chin irritably, then cracked his neck just to get on Fuu's nerves.

"You could have asked what animal we'd be," she suggested after a moment.

"Yeah. I'd be… an eagle."

"I'd be a squirrel."

"I'd be a fish."

Fuu stopped dead in her tracks. Jin's arm was slung around her; he had to stop too, since he was relying on her for support. She turned to him and stared with a cocked eyebrow.

"A fish?"

"A koi fish," confirmed Jin.

"You know what they say about fish," said Mugen. He fell to the ground laughing.

Jin looked peeved. "Fish are just as good as eagles."

"This is a stupid conversation, anyways," said Fuu quickly. "We might as well be talking in riddles or something."

"Oo! Oo! I got one!"

"I wasn't inviting you, Mugen…"

"Shut up! The faster you work, the longer it takes before you're done, but the slower you work, the faster you're finished."

"Roasting meat on a spit," said Jin immediately. "You use a knife to slice my head, then weep beside me when I am dead."

"Onion."

"I thought we agreed no more talking about food?"

"What's black and white and red all over?" asked Mugen.

"A zebra driving a fire truck? A penguin holding an apple? A nun with her head chopped off?" guessed Jin.

"Let's play something else…"

"I spy with my eye…"

"Just stop talking, okay?"

They spent the rest of the day in silence, but a less uncomfortable one than before. It was best that they didn't talk, anyways; by the time the day was over, Jin was soaked in sweat from the effort of walking, and Fuu with the effort of helping support him. They passed the night without saying a single word about food; Jin and Fuu went immediately to sleep, leaving Mugen to think softly to himself, and stalk off to practice with his sword when his thoughts became too threatening.

* * *

They reached the town the third day. It was a little less than half the size of the other one. Mugen looked crest-fallen by its size; larger cities meant more people, more money to be had, and, of course, more girls.

Jin breathed a sigh of relief. Over the top of his glasses, he scanned the city.

"Let's get to it!" said Mugen happily. "Look! There's a temple over there." He rubbed his hands together. Already, he'd gotten a glint in his eye, the kind he got whenever he was thinking about how to get his hands on money. Mugen may not have been able to write, or to meditate, or to speak in a terribly sophisticated way, but Fuu had to give him credit where credit was due: he was the most street-smart person she'd ever met.

"Hmm," said Jin. He tugged at Fuu, nearly lost his balance, and the two went stumbling into town with Mugen practically skipping ahead of them.

"Hel-lo!" He stopped, walked back several steps, and staring hungrily at a poster of a half-naked girl in the window of a shop.

"Mugen!" Fuu let go to Jin to go and try to tug Mugen away. His face was pressed against the glass like he was glued. "You... pervert… pig… jerk!" she grunted as she yanked on his arm. "We'll… never… get… anywhere… if… you… keep… being… so… stupid!" She stomped on his foot. He howled and jumped up and down for a moment, then made a violent lunge at her. She squealed and scurried away; they had chased each other several buildings down before they realized they'd lost track of Jin again.

"I might as well just put you both on leashes like dogs!" griped Fuu as they began backtracking, poking their heads into shops and restaurants along the way.

"I'd like that," said Mugen.

"Yeah, you _would_… Jin!"

Jin was leaning heavily against the wall of a building, talking with a fruit vendor, a man with a scruffy mustache and rather foolish look under his wide-brim straw hat.

"Hey, look, melons," joked Mugen, nudging Fuu. She ignored him and stomped up to Jin. He held a single finger up to silence her protests.

"…on the other side of town," finished the vendor, giving Fuu and Mugen a sideways look.

"And does he go to temple?"

"Hmm." The fruit vendor scratched his head. "Not often, I don't think. My wife goes and she's only seen him a few times."

"Thank you," said Jin, bowing his head in gratitude.

"You're asking about Shenji!" Fuu accused him. (Of course, Jin had asked in every town they'd ever come to, but now that they were so close, it was all so much more apparent.)

"Of course I am," said Jin peevishly. "He comes down the road to the city every week. He must live here."

"And you're gonna find him, again? And take him on? With _that_ leg?"

"Yes."

Mugen let out a long, low whistle. "Having delusions of grandeur again?"

Jin's eyes narrowed. "You, Mugen, cannot possibly understand what it means to have a purpose in life, and be willing to follow that purpose and die for that purpose, and to have any failure concerning that purpose feel worse than the most painful… stop it!"

Mugen had begun mimicking Jin while he was talking. Fuu wasn't sure if it was funny or not; thought distasteful, Mugen's impression of Jin had always made her laugh. He pulled his face long and closed his eyes and managed to put on airs that, although slightly exaggerated, were 100 identifiable as Jin.

"I do not look like that!"

"I do not look like that!" mimicked Mugen back.

"Stop imitating me or I'll—"

"Stop imitating me or I'll—!"

"You're acting like a child!"

"You're acting like a child!"

Jin shut his mouth firmly and glared. Mugen pulled the same face. Fuu snorted, coughed, and then pointed out quickly like it looked like it would rain again and they should find a room to stay. As if waiting for her command, the sky opened up, drenching them immediately and thundering so loud that it was impossible to hear anything.

"COME ON!" yelled Fuu, grabbing one of Jin's arms and heaving him down the flooding street. It was only after they had gone inside a small inn and paid for a room for the night that she realized what Mugen had done—he'd distracted both her and Jin from Jin's bizarre quest, and they had fallen for it, hook, line, and sinker.


	15. Chapter Fourteen: Sand and Meditation

(Author's Note: Finally, you learn where I got the name of the story in this chapter! Shenji is close, very close. But I can't bring myself to post the dramatic climax until I get more reviews. In fact, the only reason I've updated at all since chapter 11 is because people were bugging me. You know who you are...)

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

"Psst. Fuu."

"What?" whispered back Fuu. They were whispering for several reasons. For one thing, it was very late (or very early) and therefore felt like they should be whispering. For another reason, Jin was sitting across from the wall, meditating, and it didn't seem like a good time to upset him.

"Can you go get me some more sake?"

"Get your own."

Mugen sneered at her and stretched out on the bed. They had bought one room, which had triggered a fast and furious fight over who got the bed. As of yet, the fight had not been settled. Fuu was sitting on the edge, combing out her hair; Mugen was lying full-length on it, hands behind his head, his geta still on his feet.

"Psst. Jin."

"Don't bother him!" hissed Fuu. Mugen ignored her.

"Psst. Jin. Hey. Hey, Jin. Yo. Jin. Yo. Psst. Hey."

Fuu covered her ears. Jin acted like he didn't even notice—which he might not have.

"Ji-i-in." Mugen pushed himself into a slouched sitting position and looked at Jin. Jin remained sitting with his back straight, eyes closed, one leg crossed. (The other stuck out at an awkward angle, but that could not be helped; it hurt him to bend it otherwise.) "Yo. Man. Hey."

"Would you just go downstairs and get it yourself?" snapped Fuu.

Mugen rolled over, his head leaning off the side of the bed, and began chanting, "Jin... Jin… Jin… Jin… Jin… Jin…"

"You're the most annoying person in the world!"

Mugen flipped his legs over his head, rolling off the bed in a backwards summersault, and crossed the room to crouch by Jin. He poked Jin's arm. "Yo, are you awake?"

"Just leave him alone and get your own sake!"

Mugen licked his finger and ran it over Jin's cheek. One of Jin's eyes opened. "If you touch me again, I will kill you."

"Man, you get really deep into that meditation thing, don'tcha?" asked Mugen like Jin hadn't just threatened him. "Will you be a pal and go downstairs for sake?"

"He can't even walk!"

Jin looked like he wanted to say no to Mugen, but get the drink to prove Fuu wrong. Instead he closed his eye, ignoring them both.

"Jin! Come on, I know you're awake now. Jin. Ji-i-i-in!" He poked Jin's face; in a flash Jin snapped down on his finger.

"OW! You freakin' ass, you bit me!"

"I warned you."

"I didn't even do anything!" whined Mugen.

"You interrupted my meditation."

"Aw, c'mon, you were sleeping."

"I was on the path to enlightenment!" cried Jin. "I had nearly achieved nirvana!"

"Go achieve me some sake!"

"Achieve your own sake!"

The two flew at each other and went tumbling onto the ground in what might have been a real fight, if they'd had swords, but as it was, resembled a pair of puppies rolling around nipping at each other. Fuu pushed herself into the fray to separate them, but one or both of them pushed her back out, and so she stood by as a sort of referee in case they decided to do some serious damage. But finally their scuffle came to a stop, with Jin on top. He gave Mugen's head a good knock against the floor before climbing off him and, wincing from his leg, resuming his meditation pose facing the wall.

"If meditation's so great, how come you never smile while you do it?" demanded Mugen, sitting up and rubbing the back of his head. (He managed to spike his already-spiky hair to the point of hilariousity, at least in Fuu's opinion.)

"There are good things that one doesn't need to smile during," said Jin with his eyes still closed.

"Yeah? Name one."

"Do you smile while you're making love? Do you have a big stupid grin on your face?"

"Maybe," said Mugen, demonstrating his big stupid grin for Jin.

"Ew, sick!" said Fuu, knocking the side of her head with the heel of her hand to try and dislodge the mental picture she'd accidentally gotten of Mugen. He grinned wickedly at her before turning his attention back to Jin.

"I've tried it before and it's stupid," he said, referring to the meditation.

"You weren't doing it correctly. Just like your fighting style…"

"That was a cheap shot," Mugen accused. One side of Jin's mouth turned up; he quickly forced it back down.

"Please leave me alone now."

Mugen remained sitting on the floor, legs spread out, looking, Fuu thought, a little like a bear, confused and bored. Then he asked, "So why don't you teach me the right way, O Great Enlightened One?"

Jin's eye open and he turned his head a fraction of an inch to look at Mugen. "Are you serious?"

"Yeah."

Jin observed him for a moment without emotion, then turned back to the wall. "Fine. Come here. Set your back against mine, and cross your legs."

Mugen complied. He craned his neck. "Yeah?"

"Hold your hands like this and close your eyes."

"Why are we sitting back to back?"

"Because your posture is terrible. You slouch. You need to learn to relax while keeping your back straight, and you can do that by setting yourself against mine." He paused, then said, "That's how my father taught me."

Mugen didn't ask anything else. He and Jin sat back-to-back, eyes closed, hands resting palm-up in their laps like they were carrying pots of water. Fuu crossed her arms and smiled at them; a moment ago, fighting, and now meditating. Besides, it meant she got the bed to herself… even if the end was a little muddy from Mugen's geta, which were now lying beside him, discarded.

"Posture," said Jin without moving, for Mugen had begun to slouch. He corrected himself.

Fuu flopped on the bed and put her head in her arms, but couldn't sleep. Instead, she kept imagining Jin, only three, setting his back against his father's and meditating. What could a little boy possibly meditate about? Twinkies?

"Posture," said Jin again.

"You're a posture tyrant," said Mugen, opening his eyes.

"You asked me to teach you, and I will."

Mugen pulled himself back up against Jin's body and cracked his neck without touching it. Fuu clenched her teeth.

"You know, if Mugen has lice, you'll probably get it," she said. Neither Mugen nor Jin responded to this. She sighed and laid her head back down; the two had ceased all talking, except for Jin's occasional, quiet voice: "Posture."

Fuu wanted to see how it would turn out: whether Mugen would get bored and leave, or whether he'd stick around and say it sucked afterward, or whether he'd perhaps go back to taunting Jin. But after five minutes (which was five times greater than Mugen's regular attention span) Fuu fell into a light doze and didn't wake until Mugen was pushing her from the bed.

* * *

Jin and Mugen sat for hours. Finally, Jin said quietly, "Mugen?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm finished."

Mugen opened his eyes and craned his neck around, back still mostly against Jin's. "How do you know when you're done?"

"You… just feel it."

"Like when you're with a woman and—"

"Yes."

Mugen's face was thoughtful. He reached up and tugged his chin. Jin stared at the floor, fingering the beads on his wrist. Then, finally, he said, "These are nenju. Do you know what they are?"

"Yeah, they're nenju. You just told me that."

Jin smiled, closing his eyes. "They're prayer beads. Typically, a priest wears one with 108 beads."

"Damn."

"The 108 beads represent the 108 worldly sins that block one's path to enlightenment."

"Yours doesn't have that many."

"No. I'm not a priest. I'm only a beginner on the path of enlightenment. For me, the beads symbolized how far I've traveled. Both literally, and spiritually. Their presence is a reminder of the path I'm on."

"Cool." Mugen peered down at the beads. "So, what_ is_ enlightenment?"

"That's a difficult question."

"Yeah, but you're a smart guy. Try and answer."

Jin studied Mugen for a sign of disrespect, but he was sitting there looking like an eager student; one leg was drawn against his body, and his arms were wrapped around it, his head on his knee, staring at the beads.

Slowly, Jin said, "Enlightenment is knowing your place in the world and being content in it."

"Like, happy?"

"Content," said Jin firmly. "We all have a place in life and a purpose to fulfill. Meditating helps us realize that purpose."

"Is yours to fuck that Shenji guy?"

"No. But being that I am now an exiled and dishonored person without any other true calling, I feel that it's the closest I have." He lowered his head even further, hair blocking his face entirely. "These beads, of course, aren't mine. True enlightenment is denied to me. You see, I've lost everything that mattered to me… and killed some of it myself. Yuki... Master Enshirou-san…" He touched the beads reverently. "But old habits are hard to break. I came from a spiritual family." He looked at them sadly. "Not one is mine. My mother and her mother and her mother's mother earned these."

"Earned?"

"Some people put more beads on as they grow more enlightened."

"Does someone give the beads to you? Or do you just put them on yourself?"

"You put them on when you've moved farther down the path."

"Couldn't you just add a whole crapload of beads, then? And let everyone think you were really, really holy?"

"No."

"But you said—"

"It doesn't work that way."

Mugen looked hopelessly lost. "I still don't get Enlightenment."

Jin sighed. "Mugen, think of a beach. Pretend you're a grain of sand. Does a grain of sand know that it is on a beach? No. Grains of sands are aware that they are grains of sand, and that there are grains of sand around them. But they cannot see that they, along with every other tiny piece of sand, forms a beach, along which is the ocean."

"And enlightenment is like when you realize you're not just a grain of sand, but a part of the beach?"

Jin looked up finally and smiled. "Yes. Exactly. When enlightened, you see the world, and the beauty of everything's place in it."

"Cool," said Mugen.

"Yes, very cool," agreed Jin, still fingering the beads. Then, with a hesitant look, he pulled on the bracelet. It broke; he reached out, yanked a lace out of Mugen's shirt, slid a few beads on it, and tied it to Mugen's wrist.

"Hey!" said Mugen, who, despite not being very enlightened, felt there was something wrong about Jin breaking his beads.

"Consider yourself on the very first step on the million-mile path," said Jin, retying his own bracelet. "You know, they say the first step is the realization that there is enlightenment to be had, and the pursuit of it."

"So I get beads 'cos I want to be enlightened?"

"Yes. But Mugen? Don't just add them randomly so that everything thinks you're really, really holy."

Mugen grinned. "Yeah, no problem, man. You've got my word."

* * *

Mugen wasn't enlightened enough yet to care if Fuu was sleeping. He shoved her out of bed and crawled in himself. Fuu squawked at him indignantly, but he ignored her, and soon she gave up and fell asleep curled on the floor. Mugen lay staring at the ceiling and rolling the beads around in his hand. Jin had given him three; not enough to really be called a bracelet. Just beads on a lace. Then again, thought Mugen, grains of sand are just grains of sand, but don't they all form a beach together? He fell asleep with one hand laid over his wrist, the smooth wood comforting to his fingertips.

He woke early in the morning to find Jin had crawled into bed with him and was pushing against him to get comfortable.

"Yo?" he asked.

"Hai," said Jin.

Mugen scooted aside to make room. Still, Jin pressed against him like there wasn't enough room in the bed.

"I'm cold," said Jin, by way of explanation.

"Maybe you're getting sick," said Mugen. "Maybe your leg is all fucked up."

"Maybe I'm just cold," replied Jin.

Mugen sat up and pulled off his jacket. It was a long red cloth coat, probably colder than Jin's kimono; but he handed it to Jin anyway. Jin accepted it silently and put it on before snuggling back down into the bed.

"I know why you're here," said Mugen after a moment.

"Do you?" responded Jin in a somewhat patronizing voice.

"Yeah." Mugen lowered his voice. "You wanna cuddle."

"Looks like you caught me," said Jin, still in a patronizing voice.

Mugen inched away. Jin inched after him. Mugen pushed him away and held him at arm's length, so that both were perched on the edge of the bed, about to fall out. Fuu probably could have fit between them with room to spare.

"No, man, you've got to say it."

"Excuse me?"

"You've got to say it," repeated Mugen.

"That's ridiculous!" said Jin in annoyance, losing his patronizing, amused voice.

"I agree with you completely, but you were the one who established that rule, not me." Mugen smirked. "So, say it, or I'll just push you right back out of bed."

There was a long, dead silence while Jin suppressed his anger along with his dignity. Finally he mumbled something out.

"I can't hear you!" said Mugen in a sing-song voice.

"I want to cuddle."

"Ha ha. You wanna cuddle. Big, bad, stoic Jin needs someone to hold him."

"See, this is why I didn't want to say it!" said Jin. "When I made you say it, I didn't mock you afterward. And you're the one who's more… in need of… you're the one who started this whole… _affection_ thing."

Mugen dropped his arm, but Jin didn't come to him. He moved back to the middle of the bed and laid his head down. (The pillow crushed his spiky hair.) He looked unusually morose. "Okay, I'm sorry. Come here."

There was a pause, where Jin sized Mugen up. Then he inched over and put his arms around Mugen, burying his face into his neck. "Tomorrow I'm going to ask around the town. Maybe the day after that, as well. Find out anything I can. Then, I'm going to go get him."

Mugen stared over the top of Jin's head. "Man, you can't. Your leg isn't any good. You'll get killed."

"It would better to be killed and finally resolve this feud, than to leave it without conclusion."

"Jin… I don't normally beg. Actually, I never beg. But I'm gonna beg now, okay? Please, for the sake of Buddha or Enlightenment or whatever it is you're into, just let it go."

"I can't let it go."

"Why not?"

'You cannot ever understand. I'm sorry. Until you've had someone… on top of you… forcing themselves into you… you won't understand that you can't let go."

Mugen was silent. He couldn't think of any counter-argument, except to restate that Jin would die if he met again with Shenji. But he knew Jin didn't care.

"Mugen."

'What?"

"I'm glad we met, even if I didn't get to kill you."

"I agree."

"I suppose we were meant to. Our lives have intersected so frequently."

"Yeah. That's weird."

Jin shifted slightly in Mugen's arms, then reached up slowly and pulled his hair from its knot. He reached out gently to take Mugen's wrist and lead his hand to his head. Mugen stroked his hair without saying a word; when Fuu woke the next morning, they were still pressed together, Mugen's fingers in Jin's hair.


	16. Chapter Fifteen: The House on the Hill

(Author's Note: Please bear with the seemingly tedious descriptions of Buddhism; they're important to the story. Remember, Mugen doesn't know this stuff yet! Besides, I had to do a lot of really difficult research for it. I even bought myself nenju beads. Blue, like Jin's. With 17 beads exactly: for the 4 truths, 5 precepts, and Noble 8! …yeah, I'm a geek.)

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

"There are four things you need to understand."

"Shoot."

"One. In the words of Thomas Hobbes, who was born about a hundred years ago in England, life is solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and short."

"I'll buy that."

Mugen, Jin, and Fuu were walking through the town, orienting themselves with their new surroundings. Mugen had Jin's arm around him and was helping him on his way, though Jin occasionally would decide he needed to make a break for it, and walk for a ways before falling over. Fuu trailed behind them. She was beginning to feel like a third wheel. Ever since they discovered they were "kindred spirits," she'd been ignored, outcast… and this was _her_ quest, dammit! But somehow they'd gotten involved in Jin's affairs, and now he and Mugen were closer than brothers. In fact, it was almost like… well, she didn't have any evidence of that. They could just be "Victorian." Although, frankly, she thought their newfound friendship was creepy, regardless of whether it was sexual or not.

"Our lives are naturally painful and chaotic. We are more or less powerless over them."

"Uh-huh."

"Two. The cause of all suffering is directly related to how many worldly burdens you have. Every sin, desire, fault, and ignorance causes suffering. You cannot achieve enlightenment if you are tied down to your worldly burdens."

"Okay," said Mugen, a little more doubtful. It sounded like Jin was telling him stuff was bad. And he'd never known stuff to make him unhappy.

"Three. Suffering can be ended. The end of suffering, the end of the disorder and pain that pervades our lives, is called nirvana."

"Right."

"And four. Nirvana is a destination which can be reached by following a so-called path. And no, it's not a literal path. It's the Noble Eightfold Path. The Noble Eightfold create a lifestyle which leads to nirvana."

"So what are the Noble Eightfold?"

"Right understanding, right thought, right speech, right action, right livelihood, right effort, right mindfulness, and right concentration."

Mugen scoffed and said, "Right on."

"There are five precepts, of which you must commit yourself to at least one."

"What, like laws?"

"No, promises."

"Can't you just… break the promise?"

"It doesn't work like that," said Jin gently. "It's like the beads. An honor system."

"Okay… so what are the five precepts?"

"To refrain from killing or willfully taking a life, stealing or taking anything to which you are not entitled or do not need, sexual misconduct and indulgence, incorrect speech, and any intoxicants which create a loss of self-conscious, since of course all suffering comes from ignorance."

"Are you crazy? I can't stop doing any of those… Geez, even _you're_ guilty of every single one."

Jin frowned. "I try to refrain from incorrect speech."

"Is that why you never talk?"

"Yes. One of the reasons. I don't wish to say anything idle or vulgar."

Mugen looked incredulous, but muttered, "Four, eight, five," under his breath.

"Which one of the precepts would you take?" asked Fuu. The guys turned to look at her; they'd forgotten all about her.

"Oh… I dunno," mumbled Mugen.

"Come on," pressed Fuu. "I want to hear you say you'll try one. It'll be interesting."

"Killing… no… stealing… no… sex, hell, no… that leaves drugs and swearing, huh?"

"You could never stop swearing," said Fuu.

"I'm not giving up drinking! I'd rather stay unenlightened. Getting wasted is a ball…"

"Looks like you have to start speaking nice, then."

"Fuck you."

Fuu smirked and swung her arms a little more. On one hand, it might have been petty to frustrate Mugen. But then, he was frustrating her. And so was Jin, for that matter.

Jin! Mr. Enlightened. Yeah, right. He'd already confessed to them that he was one of the most unenlightened people in the world. He'd broken every single precept, and his whole life apparently revolved around revenge. Not just killing someone, either, but literally torturing him. He acted calm, but Fuu couldn't begin to imagine how much suppressed anger was hidden under there. Fuu wasn't too sure about how these things worked, but she didn't think it was enough to just act polite; you had to be a genuinely kind person in your heart, too. And Jin was someone who was, in a sense, worse than Mugen. At least Mugen was predictable. He would kill and lie and steal and cheat… but he was honest about all of it.

While Fuu considered this, Mugen and Jin walked into the nearest teahouse. There were three low tables set inside and a heavily perfumed fire burning, even though it was the middle of the day. For some reason, though, the place was popular, and they had trouble finding seats. Mugen and Jin squeezed into the most crowded table, ordering drinks for themselves and thrusting themselves into the midst of the conversation. Fuu was forced to find a different table and order her own drink.

"Cold shoulder, huh?"

"What?"

The girl next to Fuu turned and smiled. She had a gentle face, small eyes, and light brown hair. Fuu thought immediately of a doe. Even her kimono was a dark green, earthy and simple, somehow old-fashioned.

"Those guys you came in with. You _are_ with them, right?"

Fuu looked over. Jin was leaning over the table, engrossed in a discussion, probably about Shenji. Mugen was tearing pieces of pork off of skewers like a starved animal.

"Yeah, unfortunately." Fuu sighed. "One is an angsty, suicidal samurai and the other is a criminal who's trying to become enlightened."

"Interesting, interesting," said the girl, nodding. "By the way, I'm Rini."

"I'm Fuu." They smiled. Fuu liked Rini immediately.

"So, how'd the enlightened criminal and the suicidal samurai hook up?"

"Long story," said Fuu with a sigh. "I'm looking for a samurai who smells like sunflowers. But we got sort of sidetracked and now we're looking for one with glasses."

"Maybe if you're lucky, you'll find one who has glasses _and_ smells like sunflowers," suggested Rini.

Fuu sighed and slouched over the table. "Yeah, well…"

"Kind of weird that you're looking for a samurai in glasses."

"What, why?"

"Well, it's not really normal, is it? But he's wearing glasses, over there…" She gestured to Jin. "…and there's another guy who wears glasses here too. What are the chances of finding two in one city? Small world…" She smiled again. Fuu must have looked shocked; she continued talking. "Around here, though, everyone knows about the samurai in glasses. We've just gotten used to him."

"Oh?" asked Fuu politely.

"Yeah, you know, Miyazaki-san. I work for him." She gestured vaguely toward the wall of the teahouse; all Fuu could see was a huge pot of overgrown bamboo.

"Is Miyazaki his last name?"

Rini's eyes widened. "You've never even _heard_ of Miyazaki-san? Everyone knows him! He's only the greatest samurai in the country, and the most powerful man in town. He practically runs the place. If it weren't for him, we'd be a ghost town. He lives up on the hill… I'll show you." She took Fuu's arm and led her over to the bamboo. She pulled back the shoots, revealing a window. And through the window, down the street, there was indeed a small, temple-like house nestled on a hill.

"He has glasses?" pressed Fuu.

"Yes, it's something of his trademark. Well, we don't see him much. He entertains in the city sometimes, the one that's south-west of here, and holes himself up in his house the rest of the time. The town _here_ is sort of beneath him. But he's a good man."

"What's his first name?" demanded Fuu.

Rini looked shocked that Fuu would ask, but answered, "I think it's Benji or something."

Fuu nearly knocked over the table in her rush to grab Jin and Mugen.

"Jin," she whispered. "I met someone who works for—"

She never even finished; Jin got up faster than lightning and crossed half the room before his leg gave out and he fell over with a crash. There was a temporary silence in the teahouse, and then the talk and laughter resumed louder than before. Mugen and Fuu ran after Jin to pull him up and brush him off; by that time, Rini had come over to help too.

They herded her to a table in the back of the room; Jin grilled her mercilessly for information. Most of the things she knew were about what he ate, because she was only a kitchen maid; but she was able to tell them all about his house and its expansive garden, the days he went to the city and the rare occasions he went to temple.

"Tell me," said Jin, leaning forward eagerly. "When he returned from the city, did he only have one eye?"

Rini put a hand to her mouth. "Yes," she squeaked. "No one is supposed to know; but of course a few servants saw it and now everyone in the house knows."

"Did you see it?"

"No; he's been wearing an eye patch. It looks very peculiar under the glasses, but he's so rich, no one would dare say it to him."

"I'll dare," said Jin shortly, standing. "Thank you, Rini. I'm greatly in your debt." He bowed to her and turned to leave. She blushed, not knowing who he was or what he planned to do. Mugen rolled his eyes as he followed, thinking of what a nice piece of ass Jin was giving up.

Later that night, Rini told the cook about the people she'd met in the town. "There was a samurai in glasses, looking for another samurai in glasses. He was very interested in Miyazaki-san. He wasn't from around here."

The cook frowned and sucked her teeth. Later, while she was gossiping with one of the maids, a young servant girl overheard. She took it to the other three girls in the house; and during the course of their loud whispers, it somehow got up to Shenji Miyazaki's personal manservant. Shenji tapped his long fingernails on the table, and quietly gave his instructions. After the manservant had left, Shenji hesitantly turned to face himself in the mirror wall. He moved his glasses aside so he could pull off the eye patch and examine the socket; but it was unchanged, still empty as before.


	17. Chapter Sixteen: Shenji's Challenge

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

"Jin! Wake up!"

"Nuh," said Jin. He and Mugen were curled up like animals in the corner; they'd agreed, though slightly grudgingly, to give Fuu the use of the bed that night. Jin was wearing Mugen's coat again, and was lying over Mugen's chest and stomach like a large dog or a blanket. Mugen was stretched out, one hand curled over Jin, his other arm used as a pillow.

"Jin!" Fuu nudged Jin insistently with her foot. "Wake up! Please, it's really important!"

Jin rolled over onto Mugen's face. Mugen woke up to find he was being suffocated; he gave a muffled yell, waved his arms a bit, and pushed Jin off him. Jin woke up when his head thunked against the floor.

"What? What is it now?"

"Look!"

Fuu held up a scroll. It was neatly printed and bearing a crest. Jin snatched it from her hands and pulled it out. Fuu and Mugen leaned over his shoulders.

"What's it say?" demanded Mugen.

For his benefit, Jin began reading out loud. "To Takeda Jin, student and murderer of Master Mariya Enshirou of the Mujuushin Kenjetsu dojo… blah blah blah… he's wordy, isn't he? …from Miyazaki Shenji… more pointless stuff…"

Fuu, who could read, knew why he was skipping over most of the phrases. Mugen just looked puzzled.

"…I do hereby summon—oh, he summons me, does he?—summon you to a battle tomorrow—he gave the date, as if I didn't know it, as if I couldn't tell what tomorrow is—more wordiness—ah, interesting stakes he's proposed."

"What? What are the stakes?" cried Mugen.

"Their lives," said Fuu softly.

"That's boring, a fight to the death? What's the point of sending a letter? He knows Jin is in the area, of course they'll fight to the death eventually, why did he need—"

"You misunderstand," said Jin calmly, eyes scanning the extremely lengthy terms of battle. "It will be a fight in which the loser pledges his life to the winner."

"So… whoever wins will own the other?"

"Yes," said Jin grimly. He ran his index finger over his upper lip.

"You're not going to actually accept, are you?" asked Mugen in a panic. "The stupid prat sent you a letter saying he wants to make this into a freakin' game? You don't need a freakin' date for the battle. Just go in there and kill him. Don't accept."

"It wouldn't be the first time I gambled my life," mused Jin, turning over the letter in his hands. "And I believe both would prefer this to a simple _killing_. It's so crude, actually…"

"Stupid prat?" repeated Fuu, cocking an eyebrow. "Freaking? Mugen… are you trying not to swear?"

Mugen scratched the back of his head and tugged at his chin. "Yeah, well, so what if I am?"

Fuu turned her attention back to Jin. "Jin, this is really dangerous. You can't win with your leg."

"He's missing an eye," said Jin.

"Legs and eyes are really different things, Jin" cried Fuu. "I agree with Mugen. You'll fight him eventually anyway. Fixing a date and raising the stakes like this… it's really not a good idea."

"It's a terrible idea," confirmed Mugen.

Jin smiled slightly and lowered his head. "Fuu, please bring me some paper."

"Jin! You're not accepting!"

"I have to. It would be dishonorable if I didn't."

"Jin, you moron!" snapped Mugen. "He only sent the stupid invitation because he knows he'll freakin' win! You're being… seriously… stupid. And _you_ be quiet!" (Fuu was smirking at his new, less offensive vocabulary.)

"Hmm. Would it be petty to address a letter that has an equal amount of pointless banter to him? I hate pointless words… it's against my philosophy… then again, it seems to be his style." Jin tapped his mouth. "Hm. To Miyazaki Shenji… pretentious ape who says very little using too many words…"

"Yeah, start like that!"

"No, no, don't!" cried Fuu. "You can't accept, Jin! He'll win!"

"Paper," commanded Jin. Fuu had no choice but to get him some. She and Mugen leaned over him while he wrote his reply.

"Oh, Jin!"

"What? What's he writing?"

"Please don't!" begged Fuu.

"What's he writing?"

"Jin, you can't…"

"TELL ME WHAT THE FUDGE HE'S WRITING!"

"Fudge?" said Fuu.

Mugen clenched his teeth. Fuu sighed. "He's accepted Shenji's challenge… like a _big idiot_."

Jin pretended not to hear her. He folded the letter, stood, and began limping out the door. Mugen continued to beg to know exactly what was said; Fuu told him to shut up and learn to read, and went on directing dire warnings to Jin, who ignored her. He stood in the muddy street under the eaves of the inn and surveyed the road; finally he found a young boy, giving him the letter and a few coins to deliver it.

Then he calmly asked Mugen to help him to the temple.

"I can't believe you want to meditate. You might lose your life tomorrow—more than your life, even—and all you want to do is sit there and think? On the very last day? Shinola…"

"Shinola?" repeated Fuu sarcastically. "Are you going to start saying 'shucks,' too?" Mugen cracked his neck in reply.

The three went to the temple and sat in its wide, empty halls, their backs to the windows. Actually, only Jin and Fuu sat with their backs to the windows. Mugen sat facing the screens, his back to Jin's. Fuu sat as close as she dared and spent hours hissing to Jin to give up. Finally, Mugen lost patience and told her to "stop being such a b—" He stopped himself in the nick of time and corrected himself. "Stop being such a biscuit."

"A biscuit?" repeated Fuu.

She saw Jin, who was supposed to be deep in thought, smile.

* * *

Saiyu, Koto, Shamisen, and Kohachiro walked down the road together, side-by-side. The four hadn't seen each other in months; after the dojo had collapsed they'd been scattered to the wind, like dandelion seeds. Koto had gone to the Kariya-dono; Shamisen had transferred to a different dojo to complete his training; Saiyu and Kohachiro had both taken to the road, only one goal in mind: to find and kill the man who'd murdered their master.

The four men commanded an air of respect. All were tall and graceful. Their scowls were testaments to their authority. Saiyu and Kohachiro wore blue kimonos with the Takeda mon. Neither were members of the Takeda family. They were not even distantly related. But they wore it as a tribute to their master and their dojo; both murdered, incidentally, by a Takeda. Shamisen had a dull red kimono stamped with a different crest, due to his transfer to a different dojo. It looked rather like a leggy star and a boxed cross. It was stamped onto his chest, but not his sleeves, like the mons on Saiyu's and Kohachiro's. Lastly, Koto had a plain black kimono. His obi was gray with small white patterns. It was the simplest design, and the most striking.

All four had daisho. They rested their hands on the hilts of their swords, each step silent and purposeful, hidden beneath their hakama. All four had perfect top-knots (although different lengths; Shamisen's was very short; Koto's was medium; Saiyu and Kohachiro hadn't cut theirs in years), perfect obi knots, strikingly clean tabi socks. They were men who were not to be messed with.

Koto stopped. The other three stopped as well. All four stared straight ahead, like they were puzzling something out.

"We've passed it, haven't we?" asked Saiyu.

"I'm afraid so," said Koto. "There's a bridge there. He said nothing about a bridge."

"I told you we would have done better to go right at the last intersection," growled Shamisen. He was the bitterest of the three, with a deep, gruff voice. Saiyu had a musical, sorrowful voice. Kohachiro's voice was flat and abrupt, like a dog barking. Koto had a very very soft voice. "I won't stand being late," said Shamisen. "Let's keep going. We can take the next turn and double back."

"Absolutely not," said Kohachiro. "We'll get lost. We must go back."

"We'll be late."

"We'll walk faster."

"I'm going straight forward. You can go back if you want," said Koto dismissively, starting forward.

"Fine! I will!" said Kohachiro. He turned and began walking back. Koto and Saiyu fingered their daisho contemplatively and looked at each other. Finally, Koto followed Shamisen, and Saiyu followed Kohachiro. After all, thought Saiyu, they'd stayed together this long.

"The other two will get lost," scoffed Kohachiro. "They'll miss the fight."

"It's on their honor," said Saiyu. "If they arrive late and we've already killed him, they'll have no one to blame but themselves."

Kohachiro gave Saiyu a sideways look. "Do you really think he'll be there, then?"

"There's a chance."

"Shenji isn't the most honest man we've ever met."

"No. But what reason would he have for lying? He's told us where he lives; that entails a risk in itself. He ran from us. He would not give us his location unless he had a reason. And our protection… that's a reason. It would be more dangerous for him to face Jin alone than to face the entire dojo, even if most are angry with him for leaving. I think they'll be there."

"Hmm," said Kohachiro. He let go of his daisho for a moment to tug his top-knot. "Even if he's not there, at least we can get even with Shenji."

"I gave him my word we would not injure him."

"You _what_? The little traitor abandoned us!"

"Can you blame him?"

Kohachiro fell silent, scowling more than usual. He took long strides to keep up with Saiyu.

"I look forward to having Jin answer some questions," added Saiyu after a moment.

"I don't want answers," said Kohachiro harshly. "I want vengeance."


	18. Chapter Seventeen: Battles and Reunions

(Author's Note: Mm… I hate updating really often… I think I get more reviews when I space out my chapters… but I just couldn't wait to stuff Shenji and Jin's fight in here. It's a long chapter and my little author's notes don't make them any shorter… but yeah, deal with it. This is the chapter where Mugen says "Jiminey Cricket." I had the entire story written but then I decided to mix things up and have Jin's dojo get involved, so I'm sorry if my updates take longer, because this is officially "in-progress" now. BTW, if anyone can think of a better summary than the one I have now, please e-mail me. I'm terrible with summaries and my story keeps getting more complex…

To Far Strider: You're my biggest fan, I love you. I forgot to say thanks for the tips you gave me a few chapters ago. But here's a question… the name of the show is "Samurai Champloo." Yet _only Jin_ is a samurai (because as you noted, Mugen doesn't have the daisho)… and the story isn't really about him at all. Methinks the show should change its title. "Random Japanese People Including One Samurai, One Ex-Pirate, and One Waitress Champloo" would make a lot more sense.

To Lady Larrabee: I think your review might be my favorite onethus far. No worries, Jin (probably) won't die. Although I can't say how much I might torture him later… I'm sadistic like that.

To Shenji: I'm so, so, so sorry that I gave your name to the bad guy. Please accept my deepest apologies for soiling your name. Don't worry about the fangirls, I'll try and protect you.

To everyone: I just dyed my hair really really dark brown. It looks black. It's sweet. I'm going as Jin to animé-fest big surprise and wanted to test the full effect on my school's animé club. When I get pictures I'll post a link on my bio thing. I swear, it's sweet, seriously… I got the glasses and beads and everything… and my best friend is Mugen and my girlfriend is Fuu. We are SO COOL. Well, okay, we're cool to other geeks… but, oh man, it's SO EXCITING. I gotta get pictures for y'all…) (Ironically, I'm also a big LotR fan, and with the black hair in Elvish braids I'm a dead ringer no pun intended for Elrond. At least, I think so. Wagel, who is my Mugen, says I look like Legolas. But I personally think Legolas was blonde… and just for the record, I seriously hated Orlando Bloom's portrayal of Legolas in the movies… I don't think book-Legolas was that pretty, but Wagel says… actually, never mind. Here's chapter seventeen.)

* * *

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

It was their third night at the inn, and possibly the last. Jin took the bed. He lay down, put his hands under his head, and stared at the ceiling through his glasses.

"Jin… maybe Fuu's right… maybe you should at least wait until your leg's better."

"No," said Jin stubbornly.

"Jin, look, I hate sounding like Fuu, but you know you'll lose."

"Your confidence is inspiring."

"I'm just being honest."

"I have some tricks."

Fuu threw up her hands in frustration.

"Gee whiz!" exclaimed Mugen. Fuu turned to stare at him.

"Gee—" she repeated.

"Would you _stop_ repeating every flipping thing I say?"

"Flipping?"

"Grr."

"Please, let me sleep now," said Jin softly. He closed his eyes but didn't move. Fuu and Mugen sighed; Fuu tried to make herself comfortable against the wall. She wasn't surprised to hear Mugen get up and pad over to Jin.

"Hey," he said quietly, slipping into the bed. Jin didn't move, forcing Mugen to squeeze in between him and the edge of the bed. "Jin, I don't want you to lose. You're a great warrior, but you're hurt. Everyone gets hurt and you can't just pretend it doesn't happen. And—this is corny but I don't want to—you're the only real friend I ever had. I don't want to think that the only reason that I met you was to lose you."

Jin turned, letting on arm fall in front of him, the other still curled around his head. "There are many reasons I think we were destined to meet. We've both learned a lot, haven't we? It's made it all worth it."

"Jin, you _know _you're going to lose. Come on, man."

Jin dropped his eyes. "It's possible," he conceded softly.

"Then _why_?"

"I need to settle this. Even if it means… if it means…"

"Means giving up your life to him? Jin, do you know what he'll do to you? _Do_ you?"

Jin didn't respond, but he moved over to make room for Mugen. After Mugen had taken it, he buried himself in Mugen's chest, signaling the end of the conversation. Mugen could feel him trembling through most of the night.

* * *

"You didn't sleep. You didn't eat breakfast. You can't even walk straight…" Fuu tugged her earrings, looking desperate. "Please, Jin, please, it's not too late to call this off." 

They were already nearly on the outskirts of the village. The sun was up but low in the sky, shedding morning light on the dewy ground. Jin, with circles under his eyes and the occasional yawn, was limping, with Mugen's help, toward Shenji's house. Mugen and Fuu were coming with him—it had been mutually agreed in the terms of the fight that witnesses should be present.

"Darn, Fuu, lay off him."

"Darn?"

"That's seriously annoying."

"Please, Jin! Please!" begged Fuu. Jin only ignored her. The buildings petered out to fields; the ground began sloping up, and the path narrowed and wound it way through the trees to the secluded house. Jin stopped Mugen to ensure his hair was pulled back and his kimono was straight (both were). Fuu fell silent when the trees opened and the house lay before them.

It had looked much smaller from the inn. Here, they could see it was twice the size of an average house, and as grand as a temple. It had sweeping eaves and was painted a cheery red and gold; the gardens around it were lush with flowers and small fountains, and paths led every which way, formed from smooth stepping stones.

Jin pushed Mugen away and limped by himself down the path. Mugen and Fuu followed him around the house.

"Ah, Jin-san! Early, like I knew you'd be," Shenji greeted him, rising from a swath of moss where he'd been kneeling and drinking tea. Fuu was thankful to see he looked just as tired and ragged as Jin; he hadn't had a good night's sleep since losing his eye.

He and Jin approached each other and bowed like old friends. Fuu didn't see how any two people who hated each other so much could be so civil.

"Shenji-san," Jin greeted him.

"Brought your two friends, I see," said Shenji, nodding in acknowledgement to Mugen and Fuu. "Can I get either of you something to drink?"

They exchanged glances and said in unison, "No, thanks."

"How long did it take you to build up this little town monopoly?" asked Jin mildly, looking around at the garden, the house, and the row of servants standing under the eaves, looking ready to pounce on any command Shenji gave them like starved dogs.

"Oh, not long. Money isn't hard to come by, if you know where to look."

"Hmm. Why _this_ town?"

"No reason. Charming place, isn't it?"

"It's very far from the dojo."

Shenji grinned; or at least, bared his teeth in a mock smile. "I didn't much feel like staying. Don't think for a moment that I was running from you, though. I knew you'd come crawling back to me some day."

Jin squinted angrily. "Your eye looks well," he said.

"Doesn't it?" said Shenji, gesturing to eye which still occupied its socket. The other one, of course, was covered with an eye patch beneath his glasses. It looked ridiculous… but, thought Fuu, at least now she could better tell them apart. "I daresay putting out the right one has greatly strengthened the left one."

"Certainly," said Jin.

"How's the limp?"

"Improving daily."

"Not the first time I've made you limp, _is_ it, Jin-chan?"

Jin didn't have a witty reply; instead he just asked, very softly, "Shall we?"

"Absolutely."

Shenji and Jin moved away from the house, to an open space in the garden. Fuu and Mugen didn't move, but their eyes never left Jin. He had his usual calm, cold façade.

He and Shenji drew swords—they had agreed to use only their daisho and nothing else. They faced off, and suddenly both were wheeling and swinging and darting around, each trying to keep sight of the other but seeing only flashes here and there; one would draw back quickly and then lunge forward, taking advantage of every opening, guarding their weak spots; and occasionally two blades would met with a crash, causing both to twist and then lunge again. Within a few strokes they were in an entirely different place from were they'd started. Shenji aimed for Jin's bad leg; Jin kept twisting around to Shenji's blind side.

"I can't watch!" shrieked Fuu, putting her hands over her eyes.

Shenji's sword swooped down toward Jin's shoulder; he dived left, rolled, and swung at Shenji's legs. Shenji jumped over the blade and then swung down; Jin rolled over again.

"Go! Go!" screamed Mugen, hopping up and down on the spot.

"What's happening?" asked Fuu from behind her hands.

"He's on the ground! No, he's up! No, he's down! No, up!" narrated Mugen. Shenji's sword swung toward Jin's shoulder again; he pulled back, nearly bending over backwards; he aimed a kick at Shenji's midsection; Shenji jumped back and then surged forward again. He swung at his head; he ducked and lunged at his groin; he swung down, back, at the legs. Mugen screeched like a banshee and Fuu peeked through her fingers at the two men, circling and kicking and swinging and blocking. Their blades met with a clang. Both wrenched their weapons downward, creating an awful grating noise of metal sliding on metal; Jin was thrown to the ground again in a shower of sparks.

"Ahh! No! _No_! Jiminy cricket!" cried Mugen.

"Jiminy cricket?" repeated Fuu.

"Run!"

"What?"

But Mugen had already hurried out of the way, because the fight had somehow come against the house, scattering them and the watching servants. Having more objects in the immediate vicinity benefited Jin more; it was clear he'd been trying to manipulate the fight over for a while. With more things around him, he had better support for his leg and could more easily push off, while Shenji was impeded.

Shenji swung in a wide arc; Jin jerked back and teetered for a moment on his good leg, then yanked his weight forward and smashed his head against Shenji's.

"Ha ha ha! That's my move! I taught him that! Did you see that?" yelled Mugen, shaking Fuu's arm until she was sure it would fall off.

"I saw it, I saw it!" said Fuu, whose hands were still over her eyes. From the glances she'd managed, Jin's style was certainly changed; a lot of his moves were borrowed from Mugen. She'd never thought he'd do it, but as he'd said himself, he had tricks up his sleeve.

"No!" yelled both Mugen and Fuu as Shenji whipped his sword into a diagonal arc that seemed to go right through Jin. But incredibly, it didn't; he jumped forward while Shenji was in his backswing and hit him across the face with the hilt of his sword. Shenji never even saw it come; Jin hit the side of his face without an eye. Shenji crumpled.

"Yes!" yelled both Mugen and Fuu. They pelted forward and grabbed Jin, who wobbled dangerously.

"Is he dead? Did I kill him?" asked Jin anxiously, craning over their heads to view Shenji's lifeless form.

"No, you just knocked him out," said Fuu. A satisfied, twisted smile came to Jin's face.

"You used my moves! You… you…" Mugen apparently couldn't find the words and instead just laughed. "You won! You totally… frigged up your form, but you won!"

"Frigged?"

"Shut up, Fuu. He wasn't expecting that! You won!" Mugen did a crazy little dance of triumph.

"Yes. I won," said Jin firmly. He looked down at Shenji's body and his face twisted a little more.

Mugen and Fuu looked to each other.

"Well… are you going to kill him?" asked Fuu softly.

Jin looked her up and down. "I never said I was going to. I didn't come here to."

"Jin, come on," said Mugen, putting his hands on his hips. "Just kill him."

Jin's eyes narrowed. "No. That was not my intent."

"Look, Jin…" Mugen began yelling. But he stopped suddenly, glancing at something over Jin's shoulder. Jin turned. His eyes widened just the slightest bit.

Two samurai were crossing the garden towards them. Fuu had thought it was odd, seeing Shenji and Jin; now came two more with he same outfit, similar enough to be brothers. Fuu felt hopelessly confused.

"Killed another, Jin?" asked one, stopping several yards away.

"I didn't kill him," said Jin cautiously. He took a wobbly step back. "Why are you here?"

"Shenji sent for us. He said you were coming for him and was understandably concerned."

"He double-crossed you!" cried Fuu. It was suddenly all coming into place. Shenji had set up the fight. He'd proposed stakes he knew Jin would be unable to refuse, stakes that had meant Jin wouldn't kill him. He had called these people to him. Whoever these people were. Not allies, she knew that much.

"Who the heck are you, anyways?" asked Mugen, voicing Fuu's thoughts.

"Saiyu," said one.

"And Kohachiro," said the other. "We were in the dojo together."

"So… you're friends of Jin's?" asked Mugen, who didn't quite seem to understand the situation yet.

Both Saiyu and Kohachiro laughed. "No, no, far from it," Saiyu assured Mugen.

"Jin's never had a friend in his life. Have you, Jin?" asked Kohachiro dismissively. He pulled his sword. "We came as soon as we received Shenji's note that you would be here today. We've been searching for you a long, long time."

Jin took another wobbly step back. "Why would you answer Shenji's summons?" he asked. "Shenji is a traitor to the dojo. He ran away."

"Shenji is a coward, that's true," conceded Kohachiro. "He disappeared within a week of Master Enshirou-san's murder. But many others did. The dojo collapsed. He would have had to leave, in the end, anyways. And it seems he's done well for himself. We cannot blame him for having the wisdom to leave early and begin rebuilding his life."

"In any case," said Saiyu, "we were willing to tolerate Shenji's presence, and even protect his life, if it meant the chance to finally find you. Jin the Butcher. You have quite the reputation among Master Enshirou-san's students, you know. You're a legend. Actually, I'm disappointed. I thought I would find you in much better form than this." He looked up and down Jin disdainfully. It was true, Jin didn't look very impressive, wobbling on one leg, panting from his fight, hair in his face.

"I didn't mean to kill him," said Jin. Fuu wondered if he meant Enshirou, or Shenji.

"Oh, yes," said Kohachiro sarcastically. "I'm sure it was quite an accident, killing a man like Master Enshirou-san. A mistake like that could happen to anyone."

"He attacked me! It was in self-defense!"

"Come off it, Jin. You killed him in cold blood," accused Kohachiro, taking a step forward, sword held up. Saiyu extended an arm to stop him.

"Wait," he said. "This isn't the time for battle. Jin, drop your swords."

"No," said Jin.

"You two, move aside," commanded Saiyu.

Fuu and Mugen looked at each other. Neither one very much felt like leaving Jin's side. But Fuu finally, tentatively, took a few steps away. Jin nodded to Mugen. He backed off as well.

"All of you. Clear out," said Saiyu. The servants, grouped around the edge of the house, waiting to see what would become of Shenji, scattered. A few wandered behind, still watching furtively.

"Jin. Get away from him."

"No," said Jin stubbornly, remaining over Shenji's body like a lion guarding its kill.

"What quarrel do you have with Shenji?"

Jin was silent.

"I thought so. Get away from him."

"_No_," repeated Jin.

"Either kill him or spare him," said Kohachiro impatiently.

Everyone head turned at the sound of crunching. Coming up the path were two more samurai. Jin's body tensed and his scowl grew more pronounced. "Shamisen?"

"Jin," said Shamisen, nodding.

"You joined a different dojo."

"I had to. Ours _died_, you might say."

Koto pulled his sword. "Why are we standing around talking?"

"We can't fight him, that's why," said Saiyu. "He's injured. It would be a dishonorable battle."

"So what? He killed Enshirou dishonorably and deserves to die dishonorably," said Koto.

"But I didn't—"

Shenji moved and groaned. Jin jumped. Shenji sat up. "Ah," he said blearily.

"You double-crossed me!" cried Jin.

"No I didn't. We agreed there ought to be witnesses…these are mine… it's absolutely legal to call them to me. Read the letter," said Shenji in a dazed way, rubbing his face.

"_He_ double-crossed _you_?" said Saiyu in disbelief. "_You're_ the traitor."

"They're both traitors!" shrieked Koto. He lunged; Shamisen grabbed him.

One might imagine that, if six bickering people have swords, the problem will resolve itself much faster. One might be very wrong. Though all six were holding swords, they were disciplined enough not to use them, but did have a tendency to wave them, grip them harder, and take threatening steps forward whenever another pointed out everything wrong with their particular plan.

The main issue was: how were they to avenge Enshirou? They'd finally found Jin, but he was hardly in a condition to fight.

Koto wanted to simply kill him. But, said Saiyu, he was already injured and the fight would be unfair. But, argued Kohachiro, he had already proved he _could_ fight, despite his injury; after all, he'd beaten Shenji. Yes, said Saiyu, but Shenji hadn't been involved in many fights lately and was probably out of form, and was missing an eye. Then the question became: _had_ he beaten Shenji? Shenji was already up, dusting himself off, wincing as he touched the knob on his head. He'd only knocked Shenji out; and Shenji was back on his feet. Perhaps the whole fight should be redone, seeing as the four new samurai had interrupted it, seeing as both participants of the fight had serious disadvantages. Maybe Shenji had won simply by default. His missing eye was a serious and permanent injury. Jin's leg wasn't. There was a lot of debate about who had won, and whether there should be another round, and if they should kill Jin right there, and whether Shenji should be killed along with him. (Only Koto supported the last proposition.)

"You can't kill him!" said Fuu, finally butting in when there was a lull in the conversation. (Koto was taking a breath.)

"I thought I told you to leave us alone," said Saiyu impatiently.

"You have absolutely no business here," agreed Kohachiro.

"Yes, I do! I… I need him!" said Fuu. "He's helping me find someone. It's important!"

All the samurai exchanged glances. "And… the person you're looking for… is here in this village?" asked Shamisen.

"Well, no. Jin took us here because of Shenji… oh! That's not what I meant! You don't understand!"

"We understand perfectly well!" snapped Koto, puffing out like an angry rooster. "Jin murdered our Master, caused the collapse of our dojo, and came here to murder Shenji! And we're standing around debating whether he _deserves_ death. This is ludicrous!"

"Just because _he_ goes about killing people in cold blood doesn't mean we should—"

"Who put you in charge, anyways?"

"You just don't want to fight him—"

"I didn't expect him to be injured—"

"HEY!" yelled Mugen.

"Shenji, will you _please_ dismiss your servants?" implored Kohachiro.

"We're not his servants!" yelled Fuu and Mugen.

"You can't kill him because… because…" Mugen searched for a moment. "He's teaching me about Enlightenment."

There was a long, dead pause. The four samurai looked Mugen up and down: his ragged clothes, his stubbly chin, his loose stance. Even Shenji turned to stare at Jin with a look that clearly said, "_Him_!"

"Do you have any idea who he is?" asked Kohachiro finally, to Mugen.

"Yes," said Mugen and Fuu.

"He _murdered_ Mariya Enshirou-san," said Koto.

"And Yuki!" said Shenji helpfully, who, despite the knob on his head, was certainly enjoying the position he'd put Jin in.

"Yuki? Little Yuki with the hair that was always in his eyes?" asked Shamisen. "That boy Jin played shougi with? Are you out of your mind?"

"It's true!" said Shenji, bobbing on the spot excitedly. "I heard all about it from Iwase-san. He went after Jin. Absolutely true."

All four looked doubtful. They looked at Jin. Jin lowered his head. "I had to."

"Oh, come _on_!" roared Koto, lunging. Shamisen grabbed him.

"No, no, no! I agree with Saiyu. We can't kill him now, or here, or in this condition. We must take him back to the dojo where he murdered Master Enshirou-san. That's where justice must be done."

"Let—me—go!" grunted a struggling Koto.

"Yeah, well, if you want to take him, you'll have to take me!" said Mugen, pulling out his sword.

"Mugen!" yelled Jin and Fuu.

"Move aside. We'll kill you if we have to," said Saiyu coldly.

"Mugen, please!" gasped Fuu, tugging his arm. Everything was happening so fast that she was feeling very overwhelmed, and at the moment just wanted to get away from it all.

"He's mine," said Koto mildly. Shamisen let go of him; he tore toward Mugen like a whirlwind. Fuu barely had time to dart away before the two clashed, wheeling furiously.

"JIN!" yelled Shamisen. Jin turned; Shenji lunged. Jin turned back quickly, realizing his mistake too late; he barely managed to block a blow to his shoulder. Saiyu's sword went towards his kidney; he blocked it with one sword, his other blocking a head-shot from Shenji; it was Kohachiro whose blade hit home across his leg. He crumpled to the ground with a squall.

"Help me out here!" yelped Koto. He had assumed, incorrectly, that Mugen would be a poor fighter.

"Stop, stop!" yelled Fuu, dancing frantically on the spot as three of the samurai left Jin to rally around Shamisen.

Shenji, however, stayed. He leaned down to Jin's face, bringing their heads inches apart, their hair intermingled. "_I win_," he whispered, before hitting Jin across the face with the flat of his blade.


	19. Chapter Eighteen: The Road to Kisarazu

(Author's Note: I'll keep it short and sweet. First, pulling down the lower eyelid and showing that red part of the eye is the Japanese equivalent to the middle finger. Also, the word "uke" is used to describe the submissive role in a shougen ai relationship. I found this out by running a web search after Far Strider used that word in a review. I had no idea I was writing shougen ai, but I guess you learn something new every day. The dominant role is called the "seme." Sorry for the abrupt ending... this is part 1 of a three or four part piece within the story.)

(Author's Note, Pt. 2: I wasn't happy with these chapters to begin with, and after checking out the reviews I decided it was high time for me to rewrite them. Some parts are totally unchanged, others are altered dramatically. It's about the same concept but I'm trying to get Fuu in-character. Gah, it's hard, I swear she's the same as my ex-girlfriend, who was like borderline abusive… but enough of my personal problems! Here's the rewrite!) (Oh, yes, and apologies to Shenji… because I took your nickname in this chapter, as well as your regular name. Now both are soiled! Bwa-ha-ha-ha-ha!)

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

"Ugghhh," said Mugen. He opened his eyes. He felt like he was in water. Everything was swimming, that was for sure. It was blurry and foggy and sounded far away, and he felt a crushing pressure, like tons of water just pushing down on his chest and stomach.

"Shh, Mugen. You're hurt."

He squinted. "Fuu?"

"Yeah. It's me. You'll be okay."

He raised his hand feebly and groped for her, but there were so many Fuus swimming around in front of him that it took him a long time to grab the right one.

"What happened?"

"You nearly drowned."

_Drowned_? wondered Mugen. He hadn't drowned. He had been fighting. It was fuzzy but… he remember four people… two in blue, one in red, one in gray… a garden… something with Jin…

"How…?"

"You were fighting with some samurai," said Fuu. Her voice sounded funny. "You were hit across the back of your head and you fell in a koi pond."

Mugen almost laughed, but it hurt. Of all the things to happen… he could feel cuts and bruises all over his body, but his worst injury wasn't from the samurai at all, it was from _fish_. Knocked unconscious, and left for the _fish_. It was crazy.

"Just hold still okay?"

He felt her tightening something across his arm. He tried to raise his head to see it, but aborted his attempt after a searing pain went streaking through his forehead. He moaned. "Is it bad?"

"Yeah. Your arm's cut pretty deep. And I think some ribs might be cracked. I'm not really sure."

"Eh. Not the first time," said Mugen feebly. "Where's Jin? What happened to him?"

There was a long, long pause. Mugen wondered if he'd fallen asleep. He couldn't tell… it felt like he was floating.

"He went with the samurai."

Mugen felt confused. He tried to sit up; his head seared again. "Those guys who wanted to kill him? Why did he go with them?"

"He didn't get to decide. He was out cold."

"And you _let them take him_!" cried Mugen. He struggled half-way into a sitting position before white-hot pain blinded him and he flopped down with a little cry.

"Well, I didn't have a choice!" said Fuu shrilly. "I was trying to get water out of your lungs at the time, I couldn't really save your life and go after five samurai at the same time, okay!"

Mugen just groaned. "He's dead, isn't he?"

"No," said Fuu sharply, giving Mugen's arm an angry tug. Mugen cried out again. He didn't like having other people work on him; he'd always tended to his wounds himself. It somehow hurt more when someone else did it.

"Who won?" asked Mugen.

"Go to sleep, Mugen," commanded Fuu coldly.

"Who did they decide won? Jin won, right? He knocked Shenji out before they came."

"It doesn't matter who won."

"They can't say Shenji won… because he had their help…"

"Just sleep, Mugen."

* * *

"Hey. HEY!"

Fuu and Mugen turned around and raised their hands to shield their eyes from the sun. They were on the road out of town. Neither one had spoken to the other since the previous night. Breakfast had been fast and silent; fast because they had to leave quickly, and silent because neither felt much like talking. They left morosely, Mugen occasionally wincing and bringing up an arm to shield his upper stomach. As Fuu suspected, some of his ribs were cracked, although, luckily, none had punctured any major internal organs.

Their silent walk out of town was interrupted with loud shouts from behind them. Running down the road towards them was Rini.

"You!" she yelled, skidding to a stop a few yards away. "Your samurai killed Miyazaki-san!"

"Your precious Miyazaki-san is low-life scum," said Mugen. "And Jin's not _anyone's _samurai! He's a ronin!" He said the last part so violently that Fuu took a step to the side, just in case he decided he needed to hit something.

"How dare you talk about Miyazaki-san like that! He saved this town!"

"He hurt my friend," replied Mugen coldly. Fuu thought it was strange to hear him refer to Jin as his friend.

"Your friend just sentenced this entire village to death!"

"Better dead than living under that creep, if you want my opinion," said Mugen scathingly.

"I don't want your opinion!" yelled Rini. Mugen ignored her; he turned and began walking back up the road. Rini scuttled after them. "HEY!" she yelled. "COME BACK HERE! You've got to fix this!"

"Sod off," said Mugen.

"NO! I saw what happened! I saw your samurai kill my master!"

"He didn't kill him!" snapped Fuu. "If you'd have stayed, you would have seen him get up. He left willing with the rest of them."

"And he's not _our_ samurai! He's a _ronin_!"

"Then I want you to bring him back!" yelled Rini shrilly, stomping the ground and bringing up a cloud of dust. Her kimono was yellow with orange swans on it; the brown settled on it in patches. Her face had turned bright red; her hair was coming out of its neat tie, and surrounding her face in brown. She looked like an autumn tree.

"Well, too bad," snapped Mugen.

"You can't just leave us here!" cried Rini. Her soft, round face was so pleading that Fuu would have hugged her, if they'd been on better terms. But she didn't think Rini was her friend anymore; Rini's eyes were wide and shining with tears of anger, and she was glaring at Fuu with utmost loathing. Fuu had betrayed her. "Where are you going, anyways?" she asked. "What's so important? Nothing, that's what! You're just cowards, leaving our village to die, after you chased away Miyazaki-san!"

It was a rhetorical question, but both Fuu and Mugen had a compulsive need to answer. Fuu said, "We're going to Nagasaki." At the same time, Mugen growled, "I'm going to Kisarazu."

"_What_?" demanded Fuu, wheeling around to look at Mugen. "_Where_?"

"Kisarazu," repeated Mugen, who was already walking, stiffly, up the hill and into the vast expanse of fields that stretched out before them.

"Kisarazu?" cried Fuu. "Where the hell is that? Why are you going there? What about the Sunflower Samurai? What's so great about—" She stopped dead in her tracks. "That's where Jin's dojo is, isn't it!"

"Yeah," said Mugen.

"_Mugen_!"

"They said they're taking him to the dojo. And the dojo is in Kisarazu," said Mugen. "So I'm going to Kisarazu."

"To take on an entire group of the best, most pissed-off samurai in the world?" asked Fuu, hoping Mugen would realize how crazy it was.

"Yep."

"Jin's probably already dead!"

"Nope. They'll be traveling slow. There's six of them, including Jin, who can't walk very fast. I'll beat them there. We'll think of a plan on the way."

"A _plan_? Mugen! It's impossible!"

Mugen just glanced over his shoulder. "Look, Fuu. We get on each other's nerves. The only reason I stuck around was because of Jin. I don't really _care_ about your Sunflower Samurai. I'm going to Kisarazu to rescue Jin. He's my best friend."

"_You wanted to kill each other_!" screamed Fuu to the sky. Her voice echoed over the fields and the town. Several workers in the fields looked up.

"Well," said Mugen, who was rapidly becoming a speck in the distance, "I can't have them kill Jin before me, then, can I?"

Fuu ran after him and grabbed his arm. Rini ran after Fuu and grabbed his other arm.

"I'm coming with you!" said Rini forcefully, grabbing fistfuls of Mugen's coat and Fuu's kimono.

"You can't go to Kisarazu!" wailed Fuu. She pushed her heels into the road; Mugen struggled forward, dragging her along. "I don't even know where that is!"

"It's across the bay from Edo," said Rini.

"_Mugen_!" begged Fuu. "We just _came_ from Edo!"

"I… need… Jin," grunted Mugen, who was having difficultly walking, with all of his injuries and two girls hanging off him.

"You _need Jin_!" echoed Fuu. "You didn't even _like_ Jin before! You wanted to _kill_ Jin! You can't go to Kisarazu! You guys aren't friends! You're casual fuck buddies! I'm not going all the way back to Edo just to rescue your stupid uke boy-toy!"

Mugen stopped so abruptly, Fun teetered forward on her heels, accidentally let go of Mugen's clothes, and fell flat on her back. Rini darted away to avoid the fall, and watched from a safe distance as Fuu scrambled to her feet, pulse racing. Mugen turned around and glared at her. She knew without his glare that she'd crossed the line. She'd known it even while she was speaking. But she'd had to say it; it had been on the tip of her tongue for days.

"I'm sorry, Mugen," she said quietly.

"Don't you _ever_ call Jin that," he said in a dangerously soft voice. "If you even _think _that ever again, I'll kill you. I swear it, Fuu. I'll slit your throat."

Fuu's mouth went dry. Mugen wasn't kidding.

"Mugen… I'm sorry. I love Jin as much as you…" Mugen's glare intensified. Fuu realized what she'd said. "Not in the same way, I mean… Not that I'm saying you two are… um… Never mind. Listen, Mugen, I do love Jin. But you're talking about… going all the way to a town that we're not really sure where it is, and trying to rescue him from a bunch of people who's only goal in life is to kill him. And besides, you're already hurt, and Jin might already be dead."

"So you're saying you don't want to rescue Jin? You're saying you want him to die?"

"Fine by me," muttered Rini. Mugen and Fuu ignored her.

"No, Mugen… I'm just saying… I'm not sure it's possible. And I don't want you to die too…"

"Yeah? And that's how you're going to defend calling Jin a _stupid uke boy-toy_?" Mugen's hand trailed, subconsciously, to his shoulder. He cracked his neck.

"No… I'm sorry, Mugen, that was completely uncalled for. It's just…" She stopped.

"Just what? Huh? You think Jin is just some common whore who happens to be able to wield a sword?"

"No," said Fuu quietly.

"You think Jin is just some sad, corrupted little person because of what happened?"

"_No_."

"You think Jin's just some—"

"I don't think Jin is any of that!" cried Fuu. "You're putting words in my mouth! You're not listening, just like always! I _do_ love Jin, okay? I don't _want_ Jin to die!"

Mugen stared at her a moment. "You _love _Jin!" he said triumphantly. "That's what this is about! You've got a little crush and you're _jealous_—"

"Even if I do like Jin—" said Fuu, who was steadily turning bright red, "I think it's really selfish of you to get him involved in a relationship after knowing what happened to him—"

"_What_? Are you saying I'm taking advantage of him?"

"Well, it's sort of insensitive! Especially now, when he's seeing Shenji again—"

"Jin doesn't need _protection_! If he was uncomfortable he would have said—"

"Maybe he feels uncomfortable about saying he feels uncomfortable! You _know_ he doesn't like admitting—"

"HEY!" shouted Rini. Fuu and Mugen had been so busy arguing they'd forgotten about her entirely. They turned and saw her standing with her arms crossed, glaring at them and somehow very intimidating despite her height (five feet). "I don't know what's going on…" she began. "I don't know what you're talking about or what any of this has to do with Miyazaki-san. But you chased him away and I want you to _bring him back_. And we're not getting anywhere by standing around yelling at each other."

"She's right," said Fuu quickly. She took the sleeve of Mugen's jacket.

"Yeah? So, you coming?"

"Just to make sure you don't get killed," mumbled Fuu.

"Good. I need all the help I can get…"

"I'll help you," Rini said with sudden, fervent feeling. "I'll help you get your samurai back, if you help me get _my_ samurai back."

"I'm not helping you with anything," said Mugen rudely. "They're both going to Kisarazu, so if you want Shenji back, we'll be taking the same roads. But I'm not helping you at all. That Shenji guy, he's a monster."

"He is not!" said Rini shrilly. "What did he ever do to your samurai, huh? What's so horrible about him, anyways?"

"His _name_," growled Mugen, "is _Jin_. He's _not_ my samurai."

"Fine! What did he ever do to _Jin_?"

Mugen was silent.

"I thought so," muttered Rini, crossing her arms and following Mugen in angry silence. Fuu gave her an apologetic look, but she turned away and refused to look at either of them.

* * *

Everyone had agreed Jin's swords were far too nice to leave in the village. It was true that carrying them was a risk; after all, Jin could somehow get his hands on them. But the samurai just couldn't abandon Jin's swords. There was actually a bit of a fight over them. In the end, Kohachiro took one, and Shenji took the other.

"This is going to take forever," grumbled Saiyu. He was at the lead of their little procession. Kohachiro followed closely over his shoulder. Then came Shamisen, who was holding the rope which bound Jin's hands. Jin was plodding miserably after them, with Shenji beside him and Koto hovering closely behind him. (Shamisen had wanted to carry one of Jin's swords, but eventually decided he'd rather have the honor of dragging their catch along. Although he did propose that they formally gamble the two swords off among themselves once they'd reached the dojo.)

"What's another few days or weeks, after all the time we've waited?" asked Shamisen happily. All four (or five, if one chooses to include Shenji) were in an upbeat mood. "Besides, we need time to get all the rest together. There's a _lot _of people who have been waiting for this day." (He directed the last sentence over his shoulder, to Jin, who gave no indication that he'd heard.)

"Never thought it'd be you, though, Shenj," said Koto, taking a few swift steps over to him and slapping his back. ("Shenj" was a nickname he'd earned at the dojo; he'd never liked it, but wasn't going to complain.)

"I felt just as wronged as you did," said Shenji humbly.

Koto and Kohachiro scoffed.

"No, truly!" insisted Shenji. "But there was nothing to be gained by staying."

"You left because you're a coward," said Kohachiro flatly.

"Who _wasn't _scared? We were children."

"We weren't so young."

"Never mind," interrupted Saiyu. "That's all behind us now. The important thing is that Shenji has helped us find Jin and should be pardoned."

"Hmph," said Koto. "Well, I never liked you before Master Enshirou-san was killed, anyways."

"I didn't like you either!" replied Shenji defensively.

"Both of you, stop acting like boys!"

Koto and Shenji glared at each other. When Saiyu turned away, Shenji stuck his tongue out. Koto pulled down his lower eyelid in reply.

"Shall we stop for a few hours?" asked Saiyu after a moment of silence.

"I don't want to stop," said Koto.

"We'll have to stop sometime. And some of us have injuries." He didn't give names, but everyone knew he was talking about Kohachiro, including Kohachiro himself. He felt obligated to say something to refute this statement.

"I'm not tired," he said.

"_I'm_ tired," said Saiyu gently.

"What if someone is tailing us?" asked Koto.

"Who could possibly be tailing us?"

"That guy in the red coat," said Shenji immediately.

"Fat chance," muttered Shamisen. "I defeated him."

"With our help!"

"Did you see the way he moved?" asked Shamisen. "That was incredible, really."

"He was good," agreed Saiyu.

"Did you kill him?" asked Jin abruptly.

"What? No. I don't think so," said Shamisen. "A couple more minutes and I could have…"

"With our help," muttered Saiyu quietly.

"I was just getting used to his style," said Shamisen hotly, embarrassed that a street fighter had been able to present such a threat to him. "If I'd been given more time I would have been able to kill him without you…"

"He's the only man I've been unable to kill," said Jin, again abruptly. All five samurai fell silent. In their minds, Jin—miserable, limping, tired Jin—was still a legend. Mugen was immediately more respected.

They walked in silent for at least another hour before Saiyu said, "Are we resting, or not?"

"Yes," said Shenji immediately. Just as quickly, Koto said, "No."

"I'll do whatever you want," said Kohachiro, who was rubbing his shoulder in a painful way, sweat beading on his forward.

"Shamisen?" asked Saiyu. He looked at Shamisen with a piercing look that clearly said he'd better say they were stopping, or he'd be in trouble.

Shamisen cleared his throat. "I don't think he'll make it much longer," he said, referring to Jin, whose limp was presenting a serious problem to their travel.

"Then we'll stop," said Saiyu firmly. Even though the four weren't likely to admit it, all were exhausted, having stayed up the previous night making their way towards Shenji's; the fight with Mugen and the excitement of finally finding Jin had sapped the last of their energy. They were quick to leave the road and settle down; all except Jin, who gave no indication he'd heard at all, and didn't follow until Kohachiro gave an impatient tug at the rope binding his wrists in front of him.


	20. Chapter Nineteen: The Reaper

(Author's Note: I had today off from school, so I just wrote this. I think it's pretty good considering my cat was on my case the whole time (see my bio). It's mostly memories about Yukimaru. I've been wondering if I should or shouldn't put him in… but I decided to because I think he and Mugen would make really good foil characters, even though they're not foils in the series. Major huge thanks to Tegan and all the rest who have reviewed. By the way, Far Strider, did you know there's a guy named "Shinji" who was actually a writer for the show? I considered using his name for a guy at the dojo but I already have Shenji… and Shenji and Shinji might get confusing. And as always, apologies to the real Shenji. Love you, Shenj.) (By the way, the fight between Rini and Mugen is an actual argument me and my girlfriend had. "You're a such-and-such." "No, your _face_ is a such-and-such!" "Oh yeah? Well your _mom_...")

(Author's Note, Pt. 2: Yet again, this is a rewrite… I'm still not too happy with these "road to Kisarazu" bits but I'll get 'em right eventually. Tips appreciated. Most of the memories with our beloved Yukimaru are unchanged, so to all the fangirls who love him, yeah, he's still there.)

CHAPTER TWENTY

"Do you think Jin is sitting somewhere by a fire too?" wondered Mugen, lying on his stomach with his head propped in his hands, staring at the embers floating slowly up toward the dark night sky. His voice sounded very loud, breaking the quiet they'd been resting in for several minutes. Both Fuu and Rini started.

"Maybe," said Fuu quietly, who thought Mugen needed her to assure him Jin wasn't dead. "He might have escaped by himself, for all we know…"

"Why did he come after Miyazaki-san?" asked Rini, drawing her knees up to her chest.

Mugen rolled over to stare at the stars. He groaned softly and brought a hand up to cradle his ribs. "They were at the same dojo. Jin killed Enshido—"

"Enshirou," corrected Fuu. "That was their master."

"So your samurai—"

"_Jin_."

"—so Jin killed his teacher and now he's coming after the other students?"

"He's not like that!" said Mugen roughly. "Enshido—"

"Enshirou."

"—Enshirou was probably a creep like Shenji, for all we know."

"Miyazaki-san is a good, noble man!"

"He's a perverted butt-wipe."

"_You're_ a perverted butt-wipe!"

"Your _mom_ is a perverted—"

"Both of you stop it!" squeaked Fuu. Mugen and Rini glared at each other. Fuu turned to Rini. "You just have to trust us. Jin had his reasons."

"What possible reason could he have for wanting to kill his master, and then a man like Miyazaki-san?" asked Rini plaintively.

"He just _did_," said Mugen. "Lay off." He climbed to his feet, slowly and stiffly.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"To meditate," snapped Mugen, turning his back on their fire.

* * *

Saiyu had been waiting, for years, to sit down and talk to Jin. He couldn't help it. He had a morbid fascination with the man. He was so sure that there were secrets to reveal, things to be learned, a dark past and explanations and motivations, all waiting to be asked about… so much to learn. Ever since he and Shenji had discussed Jin's past at the dojo he'd wondered. And now, finally, he had the chance. 

They were taking it in shifts. The samurai sat in a rough circle, backs against trees, chins on their chests, sleeping lightly. Jin looked just like the rest of them, except his hands were tied and his bad leg was stretched out in front of him. Saiyu was standing, one shoulder against a tree, arms crossed, watching Jin. He had just relieved Shamisen from his shift.

Saiyu pushed away from the tree, crossed the camp silently, and sat down a few feet away from him. "Jin?"

An eye opened. He didn't say anything. Saiyu wasn't sure how to start what was sure to be a riveting conversation.

"What are you thinking?" asked Saiyu.

"I wish you hadn't touched my swords," said Jin. His doleful eyes wandered first to Shenji, who was cradling one of Jin's swords, and then to Kohachiro, who held the other.

"You rely on them quite a lot."

"They define me."

"Ever thought of learning hand-to-hand combat?"

"It's not the same as kenjetsu."

There wasn't much more to say to that. "Killed a lot of people?"

"Possibly hundreds. I don't keep track."

"Ever feel bad?"

"Sometimes."

"Really?"

"Most of the fights have nothing to do with… honor, or title, or justice. It's just… circumstance. I can't be proud of that."

"Hmm." Saiyu picked at a nail. "So… what happened?"

"With Master Enshirou-san?"

"Yeah."

Jin stared into the fire for a long time. "He came to kill me."

"But you were his favorite student, Jin…"

"We had some… conflicts. I was against turning over the dojo to Kayira. You know him. Master Enshirou-san was leaning toward turning us from samurai to common assassins, to work for the Shogunate. They killed my family."

Saiyu leaned forward eagerly. "You found them?"

"I saw them," said Jin mildly. He rubbed his hands against his knee; they were numb from the ropes. "I was seven."

Saiyu didn't say anything. Jin's eye studied him. Then he said, "Her face was scratched beyond recognition, and his entrails were lying on my floor. And they killed my dog."

Saiyu was silent again. Uncomfortable with the topic, he asked, "And Master Enshirou-san? How'd you kill him?"

Jin's brow furrowed. "I don't know. I think... maybe… he _wanted_ to die. He slammed my screen and woke me up to give me a fighting chance… and…"

"That was just fairness. He could not have slain you in your sleep. And he wouldn't have _let_ you win," said Saiyu.

"He didn't _let_ me win. But I think, subconsciously, he wasn't fighting as well as he normally did." Jin turned his head to the side to rub his face on his shoulder; it hurt, from being hit by Shenji. "When my sword… went through him… he grabbed it and pulled at it. Like he was killing himself."

Saiyu leaned forward even more. "And afterwards?"

Jin shrugged. "You don't already know the rest of the story?"

Saiyu glanced over his shoulder at Shenji's sleeping form. "Not really. I know we went after you. Shenji disappeared. We found your house. There was… blood…"

"Hm," said Jin neutrally.

"I assume you had a fight. And that's why Shenji left?"

"Yes. I don't think we were ever on the best of terms."

"Understandable." Saiyu crouched, shredding a leaf with his hands and staring at Jin. He didn't feel like he'd learned anything, but was somehow on the _verge_ of learning something. "What about Yuki?"

"What about Yuki?" echoed Jin.

"He was like a shadow to you. He followed you everywhere. You were… his hero."

"And he was like my brother."

"And you just killed him?"

Jin stared for a while into the fire. "Yes," he said finally.

"Why?"

"I tried not to. I… I tried to avoid him. But he came after me." Jin looked confused. Saiyu felt disappointed. He was beginning to wonder if maybe Jin wasn't so great after all. Perhaps he was prone to sudden blind rages where he killed people, fits that had no connection to his normal person. He seemed so soft-spoken, so _lost_. How could just a puzzled, quiet person kill so many people? Not just any people, either. The people closest to him. "I knew it would happen," said Jin suddenly. "I should have gone back for him. I left him there."

"I'm sorry," said Saiyu, having nothing else to say.

"Anyone else would have. But I couldn't. I had to leave." Jin turned and looked at Saiyu, searching his face in a desperate way. "I don't know why he came for me. He knew… I was better. He knew I'd kill him. Why do people come to me to die? Am I their Reaper? Why did I do to deserve that? Why _me_?"

"I don't know, Jin-san."

"It's like a finger of death has always been pressed down on me. To kill everyone around me. To force me to kill. Like a universe of life with me at the center, killing everything in an ever-widening circle."

Saiyu was in awe again. This is exactly the kind of conversation he'd wanted to have. Unfortunately, after this grim confession, Jin looked drained.

"Do you think about him?"

"Yes. He was like a friend."

Saiyu felt a pang of pity. He forced it away by lighting a pipe and smoking it. He didn't offer Jin any. He had to remember Jin was the man who'd killed his master, no matter how pathetic he was.

Jin's head dropped and he closed his eyes. Saiyu didn't ask further questions. There would be more night for that. And he'd already gotten what he wanted.

* * *

_The screen slid aside with a bang so loud it woke not only the room's occupant, but those in the room beside his._

"_Jin-san! Jin-san!"_

_Jin was already up, sitting up in a long night shirt, sword held aloft. He left out a long, shaky sigh and lowered his sword._

_Yuki stopped in the middle of the room. "Did I frighten you?"_

"_No," said Jin, running a hand down his face._

"_I'm sorry."_

_Jin just shook his head. Yuki had—he hated to admit it—terrified him. He had been having a dream with his parents in it. He couldn't remember it now; he just knew he'd woken up with the intent to die fighting. But no one was coming after him; he was safe in the dojo, and the only person who wanted to see him was Yuki. He looked like he'd only gotten up a few minutes ago; his hair wasn't yet in a top-knot, and one side of it was spiked up, making him look like some sort of street urchin. It made Jin smile, a rare occurrence._

"_You're a mess."_

"_Well… so are you."_

"_I just woke up."_

"_Me too." Yuki grinned widely. "I thought I'd accompany you, for your morning meditation."_

"_Let me get dressed first," grumbled Jin. Yuki was younger, over-eager, loud and always cheery. Not exactly violent, but certainly impulsive at times. Jin was never sure how they'd ended up on close terms. It was possible, he thought, that Yuki liked him for no other reason than his help. Jin corrected his kata; practiced with him; played shougi with him; meditated with him. Yuki wanted to learn. Jin was a useful second teacher._

"_Hold still," commanded Jin impatiently. Yuki closed his eyes as Jin combed his hair out into a semi-recognizable state and tied it for him. He watched Jin intently as he pull on his kimono and obi, yawning while he grabbed his swords._

"_I'm thinking, oysters for breakfast."_

"_What is it with you and—" Jin gave a massive yawn. "—you and seafood?" he asked blearily. Yuki darted in front of him to open a screen to a courtyard; Jin nodded his thanks, and the two crossed it together, taking a shortcut._

"_You know what they say about oysters," chirruped Yuki._

_Jin snorted. "Aren't you a bit young for that?" _

"_There's no girls in this dojo. That's the problem," complained Yuki. He had a loose, cocky strut that made Jin smile._

"_Consider this training as an investment to your future abilities to impress and seduce women."_

"_I bet you know all about seducing women, right, Stud?"_

"_Oh, yes. I'm devilishly seductive," said Jin sarcastically, pausing over a fountain to splash his face and shake his hair from his eyes. Normally, such a term of blatant disrespect would have been enough to prompt him to pull out his swords; but it was only Yuki-chan, so he let it slide, playing into the joke, just like he knew the younger boy wanted him to. "They can't resist me. I have to carry around my daisho everywhere, in case a mob of them attack me."_

_Yuki laughed appreciatively. "Bet that's what you're really thinking while you meditate, huh?"_

"_You caught me."_

_Yuki opened the screen on the other side of the courtyard for Jin. Jin nodded his thanks again. A pair of passing boys rolled their eyes._

"_Little suck-up," muttered one._

"_Shh, Shenj!" said the other._

"_So, what'd you say, Jin-san? After meditation, want to go outside for a while? Get some grub and maybe practice kata in the square?"_

"_To impress passing women?" asked Jin sardonically._

"_Why else would we do it?"_

_Jin hid his smile. "If you insist."_

"_I do. I insist. You show me how to do it, and we'll practice together. I think my form's still bad… but it's getting better."_

"_It is," agreed Jin. Actually, Yuki's form was just as good as anyone's. But he always wanted Jin to give a demonstration first. Jin didn't mind. It was important to Yuki to use Jin as his model._

_Yuki scuttled in front of Jin one last time to pull open another screen. This room was a wide, bare hall. A few students were there, sitting quietly. Most of them were on the left wall, where there were windows. The pale morning sun shone through the wooden bars and warmed their faces._

_Jin crossed the room with Yuki and sat in a sunny patch. A few boys cracked open their eyes. One left when he saw it was Jin. _

_Yuki set his back against Jin's. "Try to reach nirvana fast," he whispered loudly. "I'm starving."_

"_Gird your loins and bear it."_

"_I'll gird them after I get my oysters."_

_Jin snorted, coughed, and closed his eyes. Yuki followed. "Posture," whispered Jin softly. Yuki straightened his back, and the two sat with their top-knots tangled in the other's, both trying to reach nirvana and failing because they had oysters on their brains._

* * *

"Mugen, please, if we're going to go all the way to Kisarazu, can't we at least take a _road_?" asked Fuu, stopping to untangle her hair from a tree branch. 

"It's a shortcut," said Mugen, stomping through the forest. Rini darted after him, trying to follow in his wake before the leaves closed up behind him.

"Mugen," wailed Fuu, as a brush snagged her kimono sleeve. Rini helped her untangle it; she cradled her sleeves tightly and protectively toward her body.

"This is so stupid!" grumbled Rini, tripping over a tree root that rose up so suddenly she was sure the tree had done it on purpose. "How well do you even know this guy, if you just found out he was going to kill Miyazaki-san?" The previous night, Fuu and Mugen had filled her in on Jin's attempts to find Shenji, the fight where he lost his eye, the journey to Shenji's home, Shenji's betrayal of Jin. They left out certain parts. At the end of it, Rini looked like she wasn't sure what to think, especially when she was still at a loss to explain why Jin wanted to kill Shenji in the first place.

"I know him fine," said Mugen dismissively. He pulled out his sword to hack away a tangle of brambles in front of him.

"We're going to get _lost_," said Rini, as a log managed to slide a sandal from her foot. She nearly lost her balance, but righted herself in time and grabbed back her shoe.

"Trust me, okay? It's a shortcut," insisted Mugen.

"How can you know him if he never talks?" asked Rini.

"That's just how he is," said Mugen. "I mean, you can have a pet and know it really well even though it never speaks a word to you, right?"

"Besides, Mugen's really good at picking up subtle, nonverbal clues," said Fuu. Mugen looked pleased; the sarcasm was lost on him. It was just as well; Fuu didn't want to push him too much. Ever since their fight, Mugen had been snapping at her over the smallest things, and no amount of apologies could convince him that she hadn't meant what she said. But Mugen's anger wasn't the worst part; she felt personal disgust at herself for letting her jealousy prompt such an outburst, for calling Jin something she hadn't meant and something she would have hit anyone else for.

"Have you ever _been_ to Kisarazu?" asked Rini, climbing a rock that suddenly jutted up in her path.

"Well… no. But I know it's southish. And we're going southish."

"Southish?" cried Fuu. "There's no such direction as southish! Mugen, we're lost!"

"We're _not lost_!" said Mugen. "We'll be in Kisarazu by the end of the week!"

"I'm hungry!" whined Fuu.

"And I'm tired!" whined Rini. "And I'm all scratched from these woods."

"Women," muttered Mugen.

Fuu had to bite her tongue. But she might as well not have; Rini spoke up.

"Are you and that Jin guy lovers?"

Mugen replied by tripping over a root and pitching head-first into a pile of undergrowth. "NO!" he yelled, fighting with the vines that held him.

Rini shrugged. "It's okay if you are. I don't care. You seem like it."

"We're not! We're just friends!"

"What about that conversation you were having earlier?"

"Oh… you know… that was nothing," said Mugen uncomfortably. "Really… we're just friends."

"Do either of you like women?"

"Woo, boy," said Fuu, rolling her eyes. "Mugen's the biggest pig in the world, trust me."

"Jin's had girls. Who was that one… you know… the one he nearly got me killed over… skinny sad-looking broad…"

"Shino?"

"Yeah, Shino! See, we're not queer. We're just..." Mugen made a complicated gesture in the air. It was cut short when his hair got tangled in some low-hanging tree limbs. "Gosh darn it to heck!" he swore, fighting with the twigs in his hair. Fuu and Rini both hurried ahead so he wouldn't see them laughing at him.

Everything seemed far less funny by night. The trio all bore scratches all over them from crashing through the forest. Their stomach growled painfully, and they were cold.

"This couldn't get any worse," grumbled Fuu. Thunder rolled above their heads, and the next moment, it began raining.

"You had to do that, didn't you?" asked Mugen, pulling the back of his coat over his head.

"I didn't do anything!"

"You jinxed us…"

Fuu scowled at Mugen. "How much longer before we're out of these woods?"

"How should I know?'"

"You led us into them!" yelled Rini and Fuu together.

"It's a short cut. Just trust me, okay?"

"Admit we're lost!" demanded Rini.

"We're _not lost_." Mugen got up and stretched, cracking his back, neck, and knuckles. "Let's go. We're not gonna sleep at all in the rain, anyway. We can cover some ground."

"It's pitch-black and raining! Are you crazy?" asked Rini.

"Later!" called Mugen breezily over his shoulder. Fuu and Rini had no choice but to follow, albeit unwillingly. They slid and tripped and stumbled miserably, Mugen zigzagging through the trees and brush.

"Mu-_gen_!" groaned Fuu after taking a tumble down a steep incline and landing with her butt in a puddle of leaves. (And, from the feel of it, a few slugs as well.)

"Look, neither of you have to come with me! I didn't ask you to!" snapped Mugen, sliding down the muddy embankment after Fuu and helping her to her feet.

"It's nice to know we're able to leave you at any time and wander around by ourselves in the middle of nowhere," said Rini sarcastically, smearing mud on her face as she tried to wipe it off. "I'm not going _anywhere_ until you find me Miyazaki-san!"

"Stop complaining, then. I'm taking you to Kisarazu and I admit it's not the _easiest_ fecking path, but the important thing is to get there early and save Jin."

"Fecking?" asked Fuu.

"So what's the plan?" asked Rini.

"Er," said Mugen, glancing aside. Rain was running down his face and body in streams despite his coat. "I haven't got one yet. But I'll think of one!" he added quickly as Rini started to turn away in disgust. She didn't get far; the mud sucked at her sandals, and she went pitching face-first toward the ground.

* * *

Jin opened one eye. Everything was blurry. 

Experimentally, he closed his right eye and opened his left eye. Everything was clear.

He opened his right eye again. Blurry.

He reached up to rub it, but his hands were tied and he couldn't reach his face. He blinked rapidly to clear it, but it didn't work. He tried to remember if he'd been hit recently. He ran through every event the previous day in his mind's eye (which was, thankfully, not blurry).

He was sitting with his back against a trunk, chin on his chest, sleeping up until a minute ago. He didn't know what woke him up; it could have been an owl or a strong wind or the fire popping or one of the other samurai murmuring in their sleep or nothing at all. Sometimes Jin just woke up.

"Something wrong with your eye?"

Jin jumped. He had been concentrating so hard he'd forgotten there was someone watching him. His stomach knotted when he recognized the voice.

"I know all about that. Having something wrong with your eye," said Shenji. He was sitting across the fire, cross-legged, feeding it twigs one by one. He looked bored.

He looked up; he and Jin made eye contact. Jin dropped his eyes. Shenji smiled. "That's not necessary, Jin," he said in a voice dripping with sarcasm. "You don't have to lower your eyes to me. We're _equals_ here."

"Equals?" asked Jin softly. "I must disagree. If we'd been equals, Master Enshirou-san would have favored us equally. But he seemed to have a certain amount of bias, didn't he?"

Shenji's eye narrowed. "True, he did like you better. But only because of your sword-work. Without your swords…" He waved a firefly away from his face.

"So we're equal when I'm unarmed and bound, and you are in the company of four others?" asked Jin. "Fascinating logic."

"There's a lot more to a person than their swords," said Shenji mildly, pulling Jin's wakazashi from his obi and examining it. "Intelligence, for example."

"Or a working set of eyes," added Jin.

Shenji looked up sharply. "I could put both of yours out, right now, if I wanted to."

"You could," agreed Jin. "And it would spare me the torture of looking at you. Truly, you're a good, merciful man, Shenji."

Shenji looked at the ground, probably controlling his impulse to blind Jin right at that moment. Jin stared at the ground, shocked with his own mouth. He couldn't ever recall being so disrespectfully sarcastic to anyone, not even people he'd really disliked. It wasn't his nature. He blamed Mugen.

"These are very fine swords, by the way," said Shenji after a moment.

"They are," agreed Jin softly, watching his wakazashi longingly. Shenji set it across his lap and began shining the blade.

"How did you get these?"

Jin raised his eyebrows. "You weren't there?"

"No. I heard the story from Saiyu. But I'd much rather hear it from you, now."

Jin closed his eyes. He didn't want to meet Shenji's request. But at the same time, he could recall every detail, every word like it was yesterday. It was one of the stepping-stones of his life, one that had never been told before.

In a low voice, Jin began the story, telling it for the benefit of his worst enemy.

* * *

"_Jin-san! Jin-san!" Three boys came running helter-skelter into the courtyard. Jin was kneeling, head down, seemingly meditating. There was a flash; suddenly his sword was drawn, his body foward, tensed. His face was up, his expression one of intense concentration bordering on rage._

_One of the boys automatically put out an arm, breaking the momentum of the other two. "Jin-san!" he called._

_Another flash. Jin's body twisted aside; he was gripping his sword with both hands now, to the side, ready to deliver a slashing motion. A third flash and he did, a twisting, circular slash, difficult to block. He froze, half-crouching, one hand on the ground for balance, the other on his sword._

"_Jin-san!"_

"_Yukimaru," said Jin in a deep voice. "How many times have I told you not to bother me while I'm practicing?" _

"_I'm sorry, Jin-san," said Yuki, bowing his head. "But there's a package here for you."_

_Jin's expression melted away. He no longer looked angry; he looked mildly interested, slightly puzzled. "A package?" he repeated. "For me?"_

"_Yes! For you!" Yuki, assured that Jin wouldn't continue his kata, darted forward and grabbed his sleeve. Jin stood up, holding his sword by his side, looking even more confused. He never got packages, letters, or messages of any kind. He had no one to get them from._

"_Are you sure?"_

"_Yes! We saw it! Didn't we, Ogura?"_

_Ogura bowed. "We did. There's a huge box for you."_

"_Who sent it?" asked Jin._

_Ogura, Yuki, and the third boy shrugged. Jin had gone from being puzzled, to confused, to completely lost. He looked like he wouldn't have been able to answer correctly if someone asked for his name._

"_Come on!" urged Yuki, tugging his sleeve. "Come open it!"_

_Jin turned and gave Yuki a withering glare. Yuki added, slightly grudgingly, "Jin-san."_

"_Fine," growled Jin. He sheathed his sword and let Yuki and the other three boys lead him away._

_He regretted it the moment he came to the front hall of the dojo. The mysterious package had drawn a large crowd of people. Jin hated crowds. It wasn't a friendly crowd, either; nearly everyone there had been beaten by Jin, and everyone had a certain amount of loathing for him that came from their jealousy._

_The crowd parted. A long box was lying on the floor, with a girl standing next to it. She was part of the reason for the crowd; girls didn't come into the dojo much. Especially not ones this attractive. A few boys were jostling each other to get closer to her. She ignored them._

"_Are you Takeda Jin?" she asked, spotting Jin, who was being tugged forward by Yuki and Ogura._

"_I am," said Jin, his hand migrating automatically to his sword's hilt._

"_Then this is for you," she said, gesturing._

"_Do I need to sign for it?"_

"_No," she said. "I don't even know who it's from. There's no letter or anything. I just have to see that you've gotten it. And now that you have…" She turned away. A few students looked disappointed._

"_Open it!" urged Yuki eagerly. "Open it!"_

_Jin walked around the box liked a cat walking around some potential danger, accessing its size and shape._

"_Open it!" hissed Yuki._

_Jin knelt by it. Everyone leaned forward with baited breath._

"_Jin!"_

_Everyone jumped. Mariya Enshirou strode into their midst. The crowd parted respectfully for the older man. Jin looked up with an expression of intense guilt._

"_What's going on here?" demanded Enshirou._

"_I got a box," said Jin, dazed._

"_Who's it from?" asked Enshirou suspiciously, crouching on the other side of the box and examining it._

"_I don't know," said Jin. "There wasn't a letter or a tag. It just… came."_

"_No mons?" asked Enshirou sharply. Jin shook his head. They looked at each other. Both were wondering if there was some Takugawa connection. Neither had mentioned it, but Enshirou already knew from speaking with one of his previous students, Seiko, that Jin was a wanted man._

_Enshirou studied the box carefully, then he finally stood._

"_Master?" asked Jin anxiously._

"_Open it, Jin-chan," said Enshirou warmly. A few students exchanged looked. Enshirou never used terms of affection for anyone. In fact, he rarely called anyone by their names; more often, he would bark out things like, "You, in the obi that's tied wrong." There were a few rumors that Jin and Enshirou were distantly related, but no one would confirm them, and frankly, no one cold have disliked Jin any more, even if he was some sort of second-nephew-twice-removed of Enshirou's._

_Jin looked distressed. He'd been hoping that Enshirou would tell everyone to clear away and leave Jin alone, or suggest that Jin open it in his room. Jin hated public scenes like this._

_Slowly he began prying open the box._

"_Jin, just tear it open!" grumbled Yuki. "Do you have to do everything so slowly?"_

"_Unlike you, Yukimaru, Jin has discipline," said Enshirou in a reprimanding tone. Yuiki bowed his head in apology._

"_There's probably been a mistake," mumbled Jin apologetically. "It must be for someone else with the same name."_

"_There's been no mistake, Jin," said Enshirou._

_Jin finally managed to pry open the top of the box. Everyone leaned forward eagerly, trying to see where was there. They were all disappointed to discover it was wrapped in cloth._

_Jin picked up the edge of the cloth wrapping and pulling. With a dull thud, a sword fell out of it._

_Everyone in the room expect Enshirou gasped._

"_Wow!" exclaimed Yuki as Jin lifted the sword. "Someone sent you daisho."_

_A few people looked at Enshirou, already wondering if he'd sent an anonymous package to Jin. He didn't seem surprised at all. That was evidence enough for them to start up the rumor mill._

_But then Jin murmured softly, "These were my uncle's."_

_A hush fell over the hall while Jin examined the swords. With one finger, he traced the Buddha-eyes on the hilt, ran his hands over the lightning designs, the diamonds on the handle. He slid a finger over the blade and was rewarded by being cut; the blood dropped onto the cloth in the box._

_A few people reached out and brushed the swords with their fingers. Aside from Enshirou's, few of them had seen such a pair of swords before._

_He looked up. "Master? May I keep these?" he asked in a strangled voice._

"_Keep them?" repeated Enshirou. "Of course you can keep them, Jin. They're rightfully yours; all samurai need a pair of their own. Besides, now I can have my swords back."_

_Jin looked like he didn't know whether to be happy or distressed. He stood up and took the swords he'd been using earlier, handing them to Enshirou. Then he knelt by the box and gathered up its contents (the katana was still wrapped) in his arms._

"_Why are you all still standing around here?" barked Enshirou. "Don't any of you have anything to do? Get going! Back to where ever you're supposed to be!"_

_The students scattered, except Yuki._

"_Jin?" asked Enshirou._

"_I'm going to take them to my room and… get acquainted with them," said Jin._

_Enshirou just nodded. He overlooked Yuki completely._

_Jin and Yuki walked to his room in silence. Jin crossed the room and set the swords on his bed. Yuki slid the screen closed before darting to Jin's side. "Can I hold one?" he begged._

_Jin handed him the wakazashi and began unwrapping the katana._

"_This is amazing!" breathed Yuki, already trying out the sword._

"_This means my uncle's dead," said Jin hollowly. "He would never part with his swords. He always said they were his soul."_

_Yuki's arm dropped. He sat on the bed next to Jin and set the sword aside. "I'm sorry, Jin-san," he said, resting a hand over Jin's._

"_At least they went sent to me," said Jin. "At least they got to the next rightful owner. My parents…they took their swords."_

_Yuki bowed his head. Jin never talked about his parents. He wasn't sure what to say, so instead he rubbed his thumb against the back of Jin's hand comfortingly. _

_Jin jumped._

"_Sorry," said Yuki, getting up to leave._

"_No," said Jin quickly. "Please, stay, Yuki-chan."_

_Yuki dropped back down onto the bed. He took Jin's hand again. He and Jin stared at the swords for a long time._

"_It's too bad that girl wasn't included with the package," said Yuki after a moment._

_Jin laughed softly. "I think everyone is already jealous enough of me. If I got daisho and a wife in the same day, I'd be murdered in my sleep."_

"_Who says you'd be sleeping?" asked Yuki._

_He and Jin laughed again. "Let's try them out," said Jin, a bit more optimistically, getting up and reaching for the swords._

"_Just wait till you see the look on that Shenji guy's face…" said Yuki as they left the room._

* * *

"Having a nice trip down memory lane?" 

"Huh?" Jin looked up. He'd finished his story with receiving the swords. For several minutes he'd been silent, remembering Yuki.

"So they were your uncle's?" mused Shenji, fingering the diamonds along the hilt.

"And now they're mine," confirmed Jin.

"Correction. Now they belong to me, and to Kohachiro."

Jin looked away. "What are you going to do with only one unmatched sword?"

"Keep it to remember you by," said Shenji dryly. "It's a shame your life has to end so soon." He paused. "Then again, I could try to convince them to spare you…"

"No favors, please."

Shenji set the wakazashi aside and rose. He went to Jin's side and sat beside him. "I don't really want you to die, Jin," he said softly. "It would be such a shame." He reached out and ran a hand over Jin's hair. Jin jerked away.

"Don't touch me," he hissed.

"Who's going to stop me?" replied Shenji.

"The others," said Jin hesitantly.

"You think so? You think the other four would really care what I did to you? And would you really be able to wake them up and tell them all about what happened after your ran away from the dojo? I'm sure everyone would love to hear _that_ story."

Jin clenched his teeth and ground them together. Shenji cupped his cheek and turned Jin's face toward him. "I don't think I'm the only one who's interested in you, Jin. You're a very _interesting_ person, if you catch my drift. I wouldn't be surprised if there was a line of people waiting for you at the dojo."

"I would hope most of Master Enshirou-san's students had more honor than that," said Jin.

"Most of us never completed our training because _you killed our Master_."

Jin wrenched his head from Shenji's hand and looked away. "You can't intimidate me with your mind games," he said softly.

"No? I guess we'll see," said Shenji. He reached out and attempted to stroke Jin's hair. Jin jerked away again; short of falling over, he was leaning away from Shenji as far as he could. Being tied up, there wasn't much more he could do. Shenji moved over, closing the gap between them, and pulled Jin against him. "Relax," he whispered, petting Jin's hair. Jin struggled at first, but had no where else to go, and couldn't do anything with his hands tied and one leg immobilized. He was still while Shenji straightened locks of his hair in front of his face. "I knew you'd accept it eventually," murmured Shenji into his ear. "It's all about discipline. You're very disciplined, aren't you, Jin?" Jin tried to turn away, but Shenji just reoriented his head and went back to petting him.

"Hey. Shenji."

Shenji let go on Jin in surprise. Jin, who'd been leaning away, toppled over and landed with the side of his face in the mud.

Koto stretched and yawned sleepily. "Shit. At least wait until we get back to Kisarazu, will you?" he grumbled, getting to his feet with more stretching.

"I _am_ waiting," said Shenji.

"Yeah, right. You're telling me that wasn't going to lead up to something?"

"No," said Shenji.

"Raindrops never think they're to blame for the flood," said Koto wisely, with a roll of his eyes. "Anyways, it's my shift. Back off."

Shenji obediently got up, giving Jin one last pat on the head. "Night, Jin," he said sarcastically, going back to his place and picking up Jin's wakazashi. Koto lit a pipe and settled down to smoke and keep watch, while Jin laid on the ground and stared at the fire. It was blurred, but this time, in both eyes.

* * *

(Author's Note: PS, would anyone be interested if I set up a link on my bio to a little gallery of random Champloo stuff that totally relates to my story here? Art work (not mine), comics (mine), whatever? Take a look at episode 24, there's a kid in glasses at the dojo watching Jin with this expression of loathing. I swear it's Shenji… he lives!) 


	21. Chapter Twenty: The Samurai of Kisarazu

(Author's Note: Sorry my updates take so long… but I'm really busy right now… stupid SAT… anyways. Thanks to Far Strider and Brittany for the hours of time they wasted by listening to me develop my characters.)

CHAPTER TWENTY

(Chapter Twenty, again; I skipped nineteen, but who really likes nineteen, anyway?)

"Ta-da!" shouted Mugen.

After an hour of tramping through a seemingly endless patch of tall bamboo, Mugen, Fuu, and Rini found themselves standing on the side of a hill, looking down over a vast expanse of fields. In the distance were some mountains and a bay. "See? That's where Kisarazu is!" exclaimed Mugen happily, gesturing vaguely toward the distant, hazy water.

"Great," said Fuu sarcastically.

"Great!" agreed Mugen happily. He flopped down on a nearby log to take a well-deserved break. "So, we need a plan," said Mugen slowly and thoughtfully. He began ripping pieces of cloth from the bottom of his shirt and winding them around his hands; he'd taken a nasty fall the other night and scrapped them raw. The cold had further chapped them; he fumbled with the cloth awkwardly as he struggled to tie the knots at his palms. "We can't take them on, obviously…"

"Obviously," agreed Rini and Fuu together.

"So I guess we got to start thinking of other options."

Fuu rolled her eyes. Everything Mugen did—_everything_—was fast, loud, and violent. He wasn't a person who made plans. He was a person who followed any whim that entered his head and dealt with the aftermath later.

"Such as…?" she prompted.

"Geez, I don't know. I thought you would think of something for me."

Fuu snorted. "That's so like you! Expecting me to do everything!"

"What about Miyazaki-san?" asked Rini.

"Never mind Shenji! They're gonna kill Jin! We need a plan." Mugen looked pointedly at Fuu. Fuu sighed.

"Oh… I don't know. Here." She sat next to Mugen and began wrapped his hands for him. He sighed gratefully. Rini stood over their shoulders, arms crossed, watching Fuu. "Okay," said Fuu. "We need to get to Jin without having to fight our way through eight million ticked off samurai. So... I think there's a few options. We're assuming they're at the dojo, where ever that is, if it even still exists…"

"You're so optimistic," said Rini.

"…so here's what we can do. We could sneak in, but that would be hard. We can go in in plain view, using an alibi or a disguise, but that might be dangerous. Or we can create a distraction and draw the samurai away. But we have no guarantee they'd fall for it."

"Fuu? How'd you get so smart?" asked Mugen wonderingly.

Fuu blushed. "It's called thinking," she said, giving the bandage around his hand a final tug. She stood and brushed bark from the seat of her kimono. Mugen followed suit. The three began picking their way across the wilderness again. There were less trees now, more fields and flowers and underbrush and occasional sprigs of new bamboo. It was easier to navigate and smelled earthy and fresh after the rain. Everyone felt a little better, although they were still hungry and damp.

"What do you know about this dojo?" asked Rini.

"Next to nothing," admitted Fuu. "Jin never told us anything."

"Yeah he did! We know plenty!" disagreed Mugen. "We know they're big on honor and revenge, and had a lot of respect for Enshido or Enshini or whatever his name was."

"Enshirou," said Fuu, rolling her eyes.

"Those generalizations could apply to any dojo in the world," said Rini.

"Yeah but… we can still use them," said Mugen lamely.

"Actually, I think he's right," said Fuu slowly. "If we're going to do any sneaking around, we need to appeal to what already attracts them."

"Huh?" said Rini.

"Fuu means, we'll probably get into the dojo better if we're disguised as Buddha, as opposed to a disgruntled okiyo-e painter," explained Mugen.

"So, I'm thinking…" said Fuu slowly. "If we wanted to get in somewhere… and I don't, personally… we know the number one thing on all their minds is revenge and honor and stuff. No one would question, say, another samurai who was there to see Jin to spit in his face. Right?"

"Right," chimed Mugen and Rini.

"Where are we going to get the samurai?" asked Mugen.

"Yeah, and how will he smuggle Jin out?" asked Rini.

Fu dragged her hand down her face and went "ai-yi-yi." "You don't get it," she said. "I mean, if we're going to disguise _ourselves_, which is a really stupid and suicidal thing to do…"

"Oh!" blurted Mugen. "I get it now! That's a great idea!"

"Are you berserk? That's a _terrible_ idea," said Rini. "No one is going to think any of us are samurai. Not for a second. We don't have clothes or swords or anything. We don't walk or talk or think like samurai. It takes years of training—"

"Hey, you see Shenji every day," interrupted Mugen. "You know how he walks. Just pretend you're him."

"What makes you think I'm going with you?" asked Rini.

"Because I don't think anyone's going to let you in to talk to Shenji, dressed like you are now."

"What's wrong with how I'm dressed?" asked Rini anxiously, looking down at her kimono.

"Nothing. Just that you look like some small-town maid—"

"I _am_ a small-town maid!"

"Yeah, well, there you go." Mugen shrugged. Rini looked infuriated. Fuu had forgotten that Mugen's personality took some getting used to—even she, who liked Mugen (though she'd never, ever admit it) sometimes thought he was a little frustrating. (However, nine times out of ten, when she called him annoying, it was only for nostalgia's sake. She harbored a lot more respect for him now than when she'd first met him.)

"It's not use trying to sneak somewhere if we don't even know where it is, though," she said, while Mugen and Rini ignored each other.

"We'll find it," said Mugen confidently.

"_How_?" pressed Fuu.

"Oh… you know," said Mugen, shrugging. "We can just go into the city and find some samurai and tail them. It can't be that hard."

"Yeah, right, Mugen. Like Kisarazu is just going to be swarming with samurai who all happen to be going to the same dojo," said Fuu. She rolled her eyes yet again, and said, "Well, at least we can get some food."

"I'm starving!" exclaimed Rini. "Who's got money?"

Fuu and Mugen stared at each other blankly, and repeated, "Money…?"

* * *

"Watch the master," murmured Mugen with his usual suave, street-smart manner. Fuu and Rini scoffed together and watched Mugen darted out of the alleyway, tailing a samurai. 

"He's going to get killed," said Rini, peering around the building to watch Mugen heading down the crowded street.

"Naw. He's been doing this since he was five," Fuu assured her. "Come on, let's wait for him over there." She pointed to a small, long garden that ran alongside the seashore. The two of them crossed the road and knelt on the grass beneath a cherry tree, both looking around and taking in their new surroundings. Fuu had assumed it would be a huge, busy city like Edo, but it was actually rather quaint. The buildings were packed tightly in, but the streets were wide and not very crowded. There weren't as many vendors shoving wares in their faces, and being by the bay gave it an open feel. Fuu and Rini watched a boat move lazily past.

"Are you ever going to tell me what wrong Miyazaki-san has done to your samurai?" asked Rini after a moment.

"We swore to him we wouldn't talk about it," answered Fuu apologetically. "Shenji… dishonored him, I guess you could say."

"Can't you at least give me a _hint_?" pleaded Rini, turning her big, shining doe-eyes on Fuu.

"We-_ell_… no! No, I can't. I promised Jin. I'm sorry."

Rini pouted.

"Hey, ladies!"

Rini and Fuu looked up. At first they didn't recognize him.

"_Mugen_?" gasped Fuu.

"Pretty sweet, huh?" asked Mugen, turning for her. He had not only robbed the samurai of every coin in his possession, but knocked him out and taken his clothes. He was wearing full-length hakama, a light gray kimono, and a bright blue obi. And—even stranger—he had a pair of daisho. "Did I fool you?"

"You look _ridiculous_," said Rini.

"Shut up! I wasn't asking you!" snapped Mugen. "Fuu?"

Fuu shook her head to show she couldn't speak. Her hands were clamped over her mouth and her eyes were bulging from her contained laughter.

"You suck," said Mugen grudgingly. He shoved his old clothes and old sword into Fuu's arms. "Carry these, will you?"

"Did you just leave that samurai naked in some alleyway?" asked Rini, horrified.

"Yeah. Why?"

"How would _you_ feel if someone took _your_ money and clothes and swords and left you in an alleyway?"

Mugen looked startled. "No one did that to me."

"But _if_ it happened, how would you feel?"

"Naked? Unconscious?" guessed Mugen. He reached behind his head and scratched his back. "Why do I care what that guy feels, anyway?" He shook himself out, a bit like a dog. "I don't know how Jin moves in these things. I feel like I'm wearing sails on my legs."

Rini sighed. Teaching Mugen empathy wasn't something she would be accomplishing in a day, that was for sure.

"What about us? How are we supposed to sneak in?" asked Fuu.

"How are we supposed to _find_ this dojo?" added Rini.

"Don't worry! I have a plan, sort of… kind of. I do!" insisted Mugen, as Rini and Fuu exchanged looks. "I got to thinking about those guys in the dojo. They probably don't get much… um…" He drew in the air.

"Ass," said Fuu.

"Yeah," said Mugen.

"Why is it you can knock people out and take their things, but can't swear?" asked Rini curiously.

"It's my precept," said Mugen. Rini looked blank. "It's like a promise I made because… it's a Buddhist thing. I'm on the path to Enlightenment."

Rini fell over laughing. She's forgotten all about Fuu telling her Mugen was on the path to Enlightenment. And it seemed immensely funnier when Mugen said it.

He glared at her.

"Shut up!" he commanded. "We have to take this seriously! Jin's going to _die_." Rini's laughter died out quickly; she felt guilty for laughing in such a serious situation.

"So could we."

"Quiet, you. Jin's risked his life to save you before. It's about time we returned the favor."

"Returned the favor?" asked Fuu cynically. "Since when did you care about returning—"

"Hey. Didn't I say shut up? Yeah. I thought so. Now listen." He leaned forward and lowered his voice. "I'll find the dojo and go in as one of Enshido—"

"Enshirou."

"—Mariya Enshirou's old students. You guys can come in as geisha. Between the three of us, one of us can probably find Jin. And then we bust him out. Simple."

"How are we busting him out?" asked Fuu in an exaggerated whisper.

"What?"

"How, Mugen? Are we just taking him?"

"You could hide him in your sails," said Rini, pointing to Mugen's hakama. She and Fuu both giggled, quickly and guiltily.

Mugen turned away, muttering, "Darn you guys."


	22. Chapter 21: On the Points of Thorns

(Author's Note: The plot thickens. As usual, I must thank someone. Props to Sean and Keith, my Toshi and Tamasine.)

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Saiyu came down the stairs, hakama billowing. His hands rested on his swords, to steady them. He crossed the room; already, it held a dozen samurai, all armed, most drinking (though some refused because of their religion) and laughing (not too much, of course, and they had to scowl properly even when snickering) and reminiscing about the past.

Saiyu went to a low table by a window. Cool air blew in the wooden bars from the street, cooling the heat of the room.

He knelt and accepted a drink.

"Saiyu-san!" one of the men greeted him.

"Tamasine-san," replied Saiyu, nodding.

Tamasine leaned over the table and asked, in a hushed voice, "Did you see him?"

"Yes," said Saiyu.

The samurai on Tamasine's right leaned forward. He was identical to Tamasine; they were twins. Tamasine had a brown kimono and short hair; Toshi had a green kimono and short hair. But they shared a face, slanted eyes and small beards, something neither had every really forgiven the other for. "What's he like?"

"Honestly, Toshi, you went to the same dojo."

"I never spoke to him. Never fought him, thank the stars…"

"I fought him!" exclaimed Tamasine. "You couldn't see him draw his sword. It was just a flash and then…" He snapped his fingers.

"He must have put up a good fight," said Toshi.

Saiyu shook his head. "Not really."

Tamasine and Toshi exchanged looks. "No?"

Saiyu shrugged. "He's a very quiet man. He keeps to himself. Right now he's upstairs meditating. And before that, he was writing. He's not terribly violent. Actually, he's rather shy." He sipped his drink while Toshi and Tamasine looked on incredulously.

"What was he writing?" asked Toshi abruptly.

"A letter," said Saiyu. He held up a neatly folded envelop. Immediately, a group of samurai were surrounding it.

"What's in it?" asked Tamasine.

"I don't know. It's sealed."

"Then open it!"

"I told him I'd deliver it."

"To who? Who's it for?"

"He said, for a girl in a pink kimono named Fuu."

There was a pause while everyone processed this information. "What if you can't find her?" asked Toshi.

"Then I guess I'll just throw it away."

Everyone exchanged glances. "Saiyu-san…" began Tamasine. "We don't know what's in that letter. It could be anything! We can't just deliver it without knowing what's in it."

"It's for a girl in a pink kimono, how much of a threat could it possibly present?"

"A lot!" snapped Tamasine, swiping for the letter. Saiyu jerked away.

"It wouldn't be honorable—"

"Oh, shut up about honor! Let's read it!"

"I already promised—"

"Give it to me!"

"No!" Saiyu tucked the letter safely in his kimono and rose. "I'm going to deliver this letter right now, before you two do something you'll regret!"

"It'll be you who regrets delivering that letter!" said Tamasine, rising.

"KOHACHIRO!" shouted Saiyu. Kohachiro, who'd been in the center of a group of people admiring Jin's katana, excused himself.

"Yes?" he asked, bowing.

"Come on. We've got to deliver a letter."

Kohachiro looked longingly over his shoulder, at the group of people he'd been showing off to. "Can't it wait until morning?"

"No!" said Saiyu sharply. "We must deliver it tonight. Jin insisted on it."

"You're delivering a letter for _him_?" blurted Kohachiro. "Saiyu-san! You can't be serious!"

"It's just a letter. It can't harm anything. It's to a woman."

Kohachiro looked unconvinced. Tamasine leapt back into the conversation, nearly knocking over several glasses of sake with a sweeping motion of his arm. "How are you supposed to find this girl, anyway?"

"Jin seemed certain she'd be in the city."

"I'm coming with you," said Tamasine, adjusting the swords in his obi and looking pointedly at Saiyu. Toshi rose as well.

Saiyu sighed. He and Kohachiro took each other's arms, and trailed by the twins, they left the dojo together.

* * *

"You know," said Rini happily, "I've never felt so elegant."

"Stop moving," commanded Fuu. It was night, and they must have looked very strange. Rini was kneeling under a cherry tree while Fuu stood behind her, pulling her hair up. Fuu was no stylist; she had very little idea what she was doing. Mugen was standing a ways off, hands on his daisho, keeping guard. Occasionally, he would experimentally swish his hakama, then shake his head with disbelief that anyone could move, let alone fight, in such clothing. Fuu had already fixed his hair. It had taken over an hour to pull out all the spikes, knots, and tangles, and left Fuu wondering if Mugen had ever tried combing it before. ("Nope!" he'd said cheerfully when she'd ventured to ask.) Lying flat, she was surprised to find out it reached down to his earlobes and could be tugged into a small ponytail. ("Really, it just looks like a puff of hair sticking out of your head," Rini had said. "Shut up," Mugen had replied.) The end effect, in Fuu's opinion, wasn't too bad. And if she could make Mugen into a samurai, she was sure she could make herself and Rini into a pair of believable geisha.

"If we pull this one off, I'm going to send you to a brothel, my treat," she grumbled.

"Really?" asked Mugen eagerly. "Cool." He took a few small, hesitant steps and nearly tripped. "Whoever invented these needs to be stabbed…"

"Heads up," said Rini suddenly. All three turned their heads. Four samurai were walking down the street.

"Ah-ha!" said Mugen. "There's our ticket to the dojo! I bid you adieu, ladies!" He bowed clumsily and, with slow, careful steps, disappeared into a small space between two buildings.

"I'm out of here!" squeaked Rini, darting away with her hair half-fixed, leaving Fuu standing there alone.

The instant the four samurai spotted Fuu, they made a beeline for her. Fuu cast an anxious glance around her, looking for a place she could easily escape to. She looked at the samurai again, and her stomach twisted when she recognized two of them. "Hey," she said weakly.

"Fuu, right?" asked one.

"Yeah. And… um… Saiyu?"

He nodded. "Jin wanted me to deliver a letter to you," he said.

"Really?" said Fuu in surprise. "And… you agreed to deliver it?"

"See, even the girl thinks you're nuts," muttered one of the samurai Fuu didn't recognize.

Annoyed, Saiyu handed Fuu the letter. She tore it open; the samurai leaned forward to look at it.

"Dear Fuu and Mugen…" began Fuu.

"Who's Mugen?" asked Toshi.

"Oh… he's a friend… but he didn't come with me," said Fuu quickly.

"He's that guy in the red coat that nearly drowned in the koi pond," said Kohachiro.

"Yeah. He left…" lied Fuu. She hadn't expected the samurai to remember what she and Mugen looked like. She hoped Mugen's appearance was changed enough; he was as good as dead if they realized who he was. "You've probably tailed me to Kisarazu…" she read.

"True enough, here we are," said Saiyu mildly.

"Shh!" Tamasine hushed him. "Keep reading," he said to Fuu.

"You've probably tailed me to Kisarazu, which is why I'm sending you this letter. I admire your loyalty to me and thank you for your friendship, but it would be foolish to try anything, and I would consider it a personal dishonor to put either of your in harm's way. Master Enshirou-san's students are the best of the best. You can't hope to defeat them. Please leave Kisarazu and continue your quest without me. Mugen, DON'T DO ANYTHING STUPID…" She laughed bitterly at this part; Jin had underlined it three times. "…go with Fuu to Nagasaki, and try not to spend all her money on sake and women. Good luck on your Enlightenment. Jin. PS…" She laughed again. He four samurai leaned closer to her, so she was obligated to read the last part. "…PS, I'm sorry I addressed the letter to Fuu, but I know you can't read. Maybe you should learn."

"That's it?" asked Tamasine.

"That's it," confirmed Fuu.

"No it's not! There's writing on the back!" exclaimed Kohachiro, pointing.

Fuu flipped the letter over. "Oh. That," she said.

"Read it!" hissed Tamasine.

"A spring came with no bud or flower. Then the butterflies stitched themselves on the points of thorns."

"What's it mean?" asked Toshi.

"Nothing. It's a tanka," said Fuu, turning over the paper. "He writes them."

There was an abrupt pause. "How morbid," said Kohachiro.

Fuu cleared her throat. "Well, I guess I'll see you around, then."

"You'd be smart to take the advice Jin gave you," said Saiyu. His eyes narrowed. "If we think something presents a threat to us, we'll kill it. Regardless of whether it's young, or female."

"Or really, really cute," said Toshi, smiling flirtatiously with Fuu.

"Forget it, pal." Tamasine grabbed his kimono and turning away. Toshi looked at her longingly as the four samurai began walking back down the road.

Fuu cast an anxious glance around for Mugen and Rini. The samurai remembered her; they might remember Mugen too. Suddenly Fuu wasn't sure that this was such a good idea, particularly after Jin sent her such a dire warning. But she didn't see either one; the buildings all cast long shadows, and the only clear strip was a piece down the middle of the road, lit by pale lanterns.

Fuu turned the letter over in her hands until it was crumpled and unreadable.

* * *

"…stitched themselves on the points of thorns," recited Tamasine.

"Dreadful," said the man next to him, shaking his head. "Well, I always said he was morbid, Toshi…"

"I'm Tamasine!"

"Oh. Sorry, Tamasine-san." The man hid his face behind a glass of sake, while Tamasine scowled. He cast a scrutinizing glance to the other side of the room, where another samurai had just entered.

"I'm surprised how many have come," he remarked.

"Really? I'm surprised there's not more."

"How about you, Shenji?"

"Hm," said Shenji, who was slouched over the table holding his glass of sake and playing idly with his eye patch. (He'd shoved his glasses up onto his head.) "Why'd they untie his hands?"

"What?"

"To write a letter, they would have had to untie him. It sees foolhardy, doesn't it? Where'd he get paper, anyways? Doesn't anyone think that it was strange that there was a tanka on the back of the letter? For all we know, there was a code…"

"Shenj… you're just paranoid."

"He probably just ripped the page out of a journal or something," added Tamasine, with a swig of sake. "Who's the guy who just came in?"

"I was trying to figure that out, actually. He looks a little like Yukimaru…"

"Yuki died."

"Did he? What a pity."

"What?" asked Shenji.

"I said, Yuki died," said Tamasine. "Killed by Jin himself! Would you believe it?"

"No, no, I know that already!" snapped Shenji. "Before that! About the letter!"

"Oh. I said, he probably just ripped the paper out of a journal without noticing there was something already written on the other side. I don't think it was a code… it just seems a bit far-fetched. Shenji? Are you okay?"

"Fine," said Shenji in an off voice. "Excuse me, please." He rose and began crossing the room. He had almost reached the stairs when a hand reached out and grabbed the front of his kimono, pulling him behind a screen.

"Hey!" he exclaimed, twisting away. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Shh!" hissed Koto. "Keep your voice down, will you?"

"What'd you want?" asked Shenji nervously, in a voice just above a whisper.

"To make a deal."

"What kind of deal?" asked Shenji suspiciously.

Koto peered around the screen to ensure they weren't being eavesdropped on, then leaned closely toward Shenji, lowering his voice so that Shenji had to strain to listen. "You're a real snake in the grass, Shenji." Shenji started to protest, but Koto continued, "I admire that. You set up the fight with Jin so that you couldn't lose. Very clever. And interestingly, the fight was interrupted by us. It would only be fair to call a rematch. I don't think it would be hard to persuade the others that you two have to resolve this. And of course, you still can't lose. If you win, we'd have to relinquish Jin to you. If you lose, he'll own you for, say, two seconds. And then we'll kill him. It's pure genius."

"What's your point?" asked Shenji impatiently.

Koto slid even closer to him and put a hand on his chest, slinging the other over his shoulders. Shenji didn't like the buddy-buddy closeness of it, but bore it as best he could.

"My point is… I don't really want Jin to die just yet. You're a Miyazaki, aren't you? You're in good with the Shongun. So I am. I work for Kiyara-san now. Both of us want to put that Takeda bastard in his place. This isn't just about Master Enshirou-san… rest his soul…"

They both bowed their heads respectfully.

"…it's about family honor and loyalty to the Shogunate. I hated him the moment I got to the dojo. So did you. The only thing that stood in our way, that kept us from turning him in or killing him in his sleep, was Master Enshirou-san… rest his soul…"

They both bowed their heads again.

"But now that he's gone, that Takeda traitor has it coming. I think we both agree, he doesn't deserve a nice, honorable execution."

"No," agreed Shenji. "What did you have in mind?"

"Would you think it was dishonorable to throw a fight?"

"Yes. But I'd do it anyway."

Koto grinned. "I love your style. Here's the deal. I can convince them to let us hold a rematch, tomorrow morning."

"Uh-huh," said Shenji.

"These guys are all busy celebrating. No one really feels like watching Jin. So I selflessly volunteered to take up guard duty tonight."

"Uh-huh?" prompted Shenji.

"I just have to make sure he doesn't escape or anything. Keep vigil. But I'm gonna be outside his room all night. And I might just happen to doze off. And if someone happened to sneak past me to Jin, well, I might just happen to overlook it. Get it?"

"Got it!" said Shenji.

"And let's face it; this Jin guy has a serious complex. He could be flayed within an inch of his life, and would still put up a fight. You can win tomorrow, if you fuck him up tonight."

"Oh, don't worry," said Shenji with a slow smile. "I will."


	23. Chapter 22: Never Stir for Sacred Things

(Author's Note: Hurrah for me! Jin's journal has returned! Mugen and Fuu have(sorta) infiltrated the dojo! And Jin goes "hmm!" Yuki torture coming up in subsequent chapters... Yuki-and-Jin torture, I suppose would bethe more accurate term. And yes, "Jin Junior" will be making an appearance...)

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

"So what did you say your name was?" asked Toshi dreamily, his head propped up in one hand.

"R—" began the geisha. "I mean, uh, Rei. Rei's my name."

"Rei," sighed Toshi.

"Oy, Toshi." Tamasine strode past and flicked his head. "Stop acting like such an animal."

Toshi sat up and shook his head like he was just waking up. "I'm not acting like an animal!"

"Your tongue was trailing out of your mouth."

"I don't mind," said Rei sweetly. "I'm honored by the attentions of such an attractive samurai like yourself."

"See? She thinks I'm hot. Buzz off."

Tamasine scowled and obediently walked away muttering. He flopped onto his knees between two samurai. One was dozing off, head drooping and then popping up as he struggled to stay away. The other was hunched over a glass of sake, and jumped when Tamasine sat next to him.

"Give me a shot of that, will you?" demanded Tamasine.

"Er—sure." The samurai to Tamasine's right passed him a drink, which he downed in a single gulp. "You can hold it," said the other samurai admiringly.

"Yeah, well, when your brother is acting like an idiot, sometimes you just gotta have a drink," grumbled Tamasine. He shook his head and added, "Tamasine, by the way. Sorry… I don't recognize you."

"Oh," said the other samurai. "I'm… erm… Meiyo."

"Yeah? Sorry… still don't remember you. Maybe that's just the sake."

"Yeah," agreed Meiyo, who was casting furtive glances around the room frequently, like he was searching for something. "Hey, did that chick just get here?"

"You mean her?" asked Tamasine, pointing to Rei. "I think so. Don't get any ideas, though. Toshi's already slobbered all over that one."

"Hm," said Meiyo, rubbing his chin. He had a nick on his jawbone, like he'd just shaved. Subconsciously, he reached behind his back, groped for a moment, scratched the back of his neck, cracked it, and went back to being hunched over his drink. He looked like a beggar with daisho—and indeed, probably was.

"Hard times, since the murder," commented Tamasine.

"Yeah," said Meiyo, trying to peer over the heads of others to see Rei. "Hey, did another girl come in with that one?"

"No," said Tamasine.

Meiyo's shoulders sagged. "Crud," he muttered.

"Expecting someone?"

"Yeah… but looks like she gave me the slip." He scratched his neck violently again. Tamasine wondered if he had lice.

"Been living on the streets?"

"Yeah."

Tamasine bobbed his head. "Damn," he exclaimed with sudden passion, slamming down his sake cup, "I'd like to mess him up."

"Join the club, Toshi," said Kohachiro, settling down across from them. Meiyo suddenly became very interested in the table top.

"I'm Tamasine," said Tamasine.

"Oh. Apologies."

"How many times do I have to go over this? Short hair! Tamasine! Long hair! Toshi!" yelled Tamasine, gesturing wildly.

Meiyo mumbled something and started to rise, but Tamasine grabbed him back down. "Stay a while! Have another drink—tonight's a party! Kohachiro-san, you remember Meiyo-san here… Huko's shudo partner?"

"Huko's what?" asked Meiyo helplessly. Tamasine seemed to suddenly remember Meiyo very, very well even though he'd had no idea who he was moments earlier.

"Yes, yes, Huko… killed himself… very sad…" mumbled Kohachiro without looking very closely at Meiyo. "Very sorry, Meiyo…"

Meiyo looked bewildered.

"Died the good way, though," shouted Tamasine excitedly, waving his sake glass and sloshing liquid all over the table. He was the type who got easily stirred up, and his own voice tended to make him more and more passionate. "One of the first ones after him! Tracked him north, while the rest of us bastards were looking south! Huh! Lost an arm, right!"

"Tamasine!" exclaimed Kohachiro. "Don't talk about Huko like that!"

"Meiyo should be proud!" cried Tamasine, slapping Meiyo on the back and causing his to spray sake everywhere. "He had a lot of courage! Gave Jin his fight's worth, I'll wager… died with glory! TO HUKO!" he shouted, raising his glass. Everyone shouted back to him, even though many hadn't known Huko personally, and no one knew why they were toasting him, and some didn't even have glasses to raise.

"Yeah, well, I've got to do something—" said Meiyo, rising.

"Nonsense! More drinks!" said Tamasine, grabbing him.

"Let him go, Toshi!" hissed Kohachiro.

"TAMASINE!" yelled Tamasine, letting go of Meiyo. Meiyo took five steps, tripped over his hakama, and fell to the ground with a crash, nearly impaling himself on the swords. He picked himself up hastily, but most of the people in the area were laughing (too much sake, they all said with a chuckle). Tamasine staggered over and helped him up, laughing like a hyena and dusting him off.

"Come on, let's go. It's too crowded here anyways," he said.

"What? No, I've got to stay—" insisted Meiyo.

"Tonight's a night to let loose! Let your hair down!" said Tamasine. He made a playful swipe at Meiyo's hair; Meiyo put his arms over his protectively. Tamasine didn't let that stop him; he threw an arm around Meiyo, and the two staggered and tripped their way across the room.

"What about Jin?" cried Meiyo desperately as Tamasine, aided by two others who were nearly as drunk, dragged him toward the door.

"Don't worry, Meiyo! You'll have your chance. Damn, I swear it! I'll get you in to see him! Takeda bastard!" exclaimed Tamasine.

"Bless you, Toshi," said one of the other samurai.

"TAMASINE!" shouted Tamasine. "TAMASINE!"

* * *

Fuu sat hunched over, nearly doubled, on a rickety wooden fence. It was supposed to keep people from crossing through an alleyway between two buildings, but was so low it didn't do much good. Fuu had kicked off her sandals; they laid in the dust road in front of her. Her bare feet were flat against the fence for balance; her arms were crossed and she'd bent her body over them for warmth. She could see her breath. 

She was watching the dojo across the road. She couldn't go there; she could only hope Mugen and Rini were there, and not getting killed. So far, she hadn't witnessed any scenes of destruction. There was a lot of loud laughing; from time to time, someone would come in, or a group of samurai (often drunk) would stumble out and go down the street in search of a party with less samurai. The first level was well-lit; but the upper level seemed deserted. The spaces between the wooden slats of the windows were dark, and there wasn't any movement.

Fuu decided to take a walk for warmth. She hopped off the fence, slipped on her sandals, and walked down the street, huffing and rubbing her arms. The dojo was massive, an obsolete monument to a once-great movement. She imagined it standing, empty and cold, studentless.

She walked down the whole block and then turned on a road, keeping the dojo to her right. She was surprised to see a square of light through one of the upstairs windows.

Fuu cast a careful glance around, then stood on tip-toe, as if she could hope to see into the window. Needless to say, she couldn't.

She looked around again, then gathered up her courage, and yelled, "JI-I-I-IN!"

Her voice echoed for a moment in the empty streets. The light in the window didn't even flicker.

She cupped her hands to her mouth and yelled again, "JIN! _JIN_!"

This time she was rewarded. The light flickered, was temporarily blocked, and suddenly a man was leaning out the window.

"Who are you?" he demanded rudely.

"Where's Jin?" asked Fuu anxiously.

"Who are you?" he repeated, in a dull voice that implied he was asking about the weather.

"I'm—I'm Fuu," said Fuu. Struck with sudden inspiration, she added, "Jin's my—my beau."

"The Takeda? The Thousand-Man-Killer?" asked the man in surprise.

"Well, the Thousand-Man-Killer's Killer," said Fuu. "I mean, he hasn't killed a thousand people…"

"But calling him the Thousand-Man-Killer's Killer is too long," said the man thoughtfully, looking up at the starry sky and leaning heavily out of the window on his arms. "Actually, mostly we just say Jin…"

"Well, do you know where he is?" asked Fuu, who thought their conversation was pointless and frustrating.

"Yep," said the man.

"Can I see him?"

"Oh, no. No, no, no," said the samurai quickly. "I'm very sorry, Ma'am."

"But I need to!" insisted Fuu. "To—to say good-bye!"

"You should have considered this before you were engaged!" snapped the man, his resolve hardening. "He's a dangerous murderer!"

"Can't I at least see him so he can… he can…" Fuu swallowed. "Say good-bye to his baby?"

The man nearly fell out the window. "He's got a _child_?"

"Oh—yes!" said Fuu quickly. "A little baby boy! And he won't even remember his daddy… it's so tragic! He's our first and only! The apple of Jin's eye! Only a few months old! Please, can't I see him?"

"Where's the baby?" asked the man cynically.

"I—left him with a friend," lied Fuu. "But I could see Jin if I had him with me, right?"

"What's his name?"

"The baby?" asked Fuu numbly.

"Yes. The baby," said the man patronizingly.

"Oh. Um… his name… his name… which I'm about to say, right now... his name is… um… Jin Junior."

The man no longer looked pitying. "Get out of here, woman! When I see a baby, then I'll talk!" He went back inside and slammed the screen back.

Fuu stared up at it a moment, rubbing her arms and wishing it would open. Instead, she saw the light flicker, and then go out.

* * *

Jin was sitting in the corner, legs both crossed for the first time since his leg injury, nenju beads in one hand. The only sound in the room was the faint rattle as Jin's thumb moved over one, and his deep, rhythmic breathing. 

Shenji came in, slamming the screen with a violent crash. Jin didn't move. A single eye opened.

"Not as lost in nirvana as I thought, huh?" asked Shenji.

"Just because I'm meditating doesn't mean I lose all my senses," said Jin quietly, slipping the beads back onto his wrist. Painfully, he climbed to his feet, his usual grace somewhat impeded by his hurt leg. Shenji waited for him to rise.

"Why are you here?"

"Do you have to ask?" replied Shenji. "To say good-bye, Jin. Tonight's your last night, you know."

"Hmm," said Jin with a bow of his head. He looked like he was commenting on something as trivial as rain ruining a picnic.

"Don't you care?"

"My death is inconsequential."

Shenji stared at him.

"I'm nothing more than a single grain of sand is to a beach."

Shenji kept staring.

"There are worse things than death."

Shenji finally smiled. "You never fail to surprise me, Jin-san."

"Nor you me, Shenji-san," said Jin. "I wouldn't have expected you to come without weapons."

Shenji's leered at him. "What need have I for swords? I didn't come here to fight, Jin-san." He began stalking around the edge of the room; Jin circled the opposite way, keeping the center of the room between them. The room itself was a small one; it had once been home to Enshirou's younger and less important students. There was a bed in one corner, on the floor, and an oil lamp in another, but nothing else; there were no windows. The boy who'd previously occupied it had drowned over a year ago, when he'd given up the search on Jin and attempted to walk home by foot, getting caught in a sudden downpour.

"Besides," continued Shenji as they circled like dogs, "you can't fight without your swords."

"Yes, I can," hissed Jin.

"Really? I've never seen it. When was the last time we were both disarmed? Oh, yes, now I remember…"

"Don't," warned Jin.

"…you didn't fight back _then_, as I recall…"

"I'll fight you now, if you want," snapped Jin. "I'll kill you with my bare hands."

"You may be a spectacular swordsman, but without those blades, you're as worthless as dirt," said Shenji calmly. "I, on the other hand, was always celebrated for my abilities in hand-to-hand."

"If your hands are half as powerful as your jaw, I'll be in great trouble indeed," said Jin scathingly, even though he was starting to look troubled.

Shenji didn't wait; he pounced. Jin instinctively jumped away; Shenji grabbed a handful on kimono, swung his leg around, and tripped Jin. Jin grabbed him, and together, they fell onto the ground and went rolling.

"Ha!" barked Shenji triumphantly, pinning Jin's shoulders and digging into his wrists with his nails. "You have the worst luck when it comes to wrestling, Jin."

"Luck has nothing to do with it. I don't like crude fighting styles," said Jin softly. He kept his head raised from the floor, turned to talk to Shenji, both arms straining.

"Pity. Your problem is actually confidence, you know. You shouldn't have darted away from me when I came at you. You shouldn't have let me unsettle you. But I guess it's difficult to get old fears under control."

"I'm not afraid of you."

"Glad to hear it," said Shenji in a completely unconvincing tone, squeezing Jin's wrists until Jin's blood began welling under his nails. Jin didn't make a single noise, nor give any other indication that he was in pain. And perhaps he wasn't.

Shenji moved—just for a moment—and Jin wrenched away, furious. He scrambled from under Shenji and began to rise; Shenji was faster. He got up and delivered a well-aimed kick at Jin's half-healed leg. Jin yelled for the first time—a muffled cry he obviously didn't want to give—and fell back onto the floor.

"Had that leg looked at yet?" asked Shenji, standing over Jin and beginning to untie his obi. "Wouldn't want it to become permanent. You know, prolonged injuries can lead to limps and so on… and it'd be a shame to have a weakness like that…"

"I'd hate to be handicapped with the loss of something," growled Jin, staring pointedly into Shenji's one eye. Shenji lunged at him; the two fought for a moment like cats before Shenji managed to yank his wrists together.

"You know, Jin-san…" he grunted as he subdued a struggling Jin, "…attitude isn't a becoming trait for you."

"_Nn_!" protested Jin as the cloth began cutting into his wrists' skin.

"Now," said Shenji promptly, stretching out on Jin and propping up his elbows on Jin's back, "there's something that's been bugging me, Jin, and maybe you can explain it to me. I heard Toshi mention something about a letter. Or maybe it was Tamasine. One of them, anyways. And I found it rather curious that you were equipped to write a letter… so I thought I'd ask about it."

Jin was silent.

"Nothing to say? I'll figure it out myself, then."

Jin's body tensed automatically when Shenji reached over his shoulder and put a hand inside his kimono; he relaxed slightly when it came out, then tensed when he realized Shenji had taken his journal.

"Jin, I had no idea you were a writer!" exclaimed Shenji amiably.

Jin's only reply was to lay his cheek on the wooden floor.

"How long have you kept this? Oh… only a few weeks… how disappointing. Still, I'm sure there's something worthwhile in here. Let's see…" He began flipping through it, uninterested. "Here we go… 'Yesterday while he were walking, Mugen asked to try on my nenju. He's developing a bit of an obsession but I think it might be good for him to learn to have a little faith in something, even if it's only a bracelet right now. While they were on his wrist he examined them closely, then said, "Too bad they don't go with my ink, right?" It's the first time I've ever heard him mention the bands on his wrists. I never asked where or why he got the tattoos. Now I'm sure he's self-conscious about them. If only Fuu wasn't there. I would have taken his hands and stroked his wrists and told him they don't matter; they're only marks. They don't define him any more than my scars define me; and he's beautiful, in his own way. But I wouldn't dare say any of it with her hanging around; she was in front of us, trailing slowly like she was listening. Instead I said, "Hmm." I wish now I hadn't. I wish I'd said everything I was thinking: that the tattoos are subtle, striking, even erotic.' Aww, Jin. That's so sweet." Shenji smirked. Jin forced himself not to react; he stared at the wall, completely focused, pretending not to hear.

"Alrighty..." hummed Shenji, flipping through the pages. "What are all these little bits? 'For sacred things, the cobwebs never stir. I wish there was a way I might console them.' Console what, the cobwebs? Lost me on that one… oh, here's a good part… 'I think Fuu is becoming jealous of the relationship Mugen and I have. She's only fifteen and takes it personally. Today she was prying. I was trying to practice my kata and she was in the way, picking flowers idly and asking things like, "So have you and Mugen figured out where we are yet?" I said, "Hmm." It sounds like she's accusing us of discussing things between each other and purposely leaving her out. Maybe she likes Mugen. I can see why she would; he's a reckless, happy-go-lucky person, easy to like and loathe at the same time. Knowing that he has a gentle side has probably only increased whatever girlish little crush she has. Still, I worry she'll begin to nag at Mugen. The two already have a sort of love-hate relationship. They're always chiding each other playfully. If she and Mugen ever evolved into something more, I don't know what I'd do. I don't think Mugen has any interest in her but that could change; he doesn't really have any standard in women. What if he and her did develop into a couple? I can see it clearly, her trying to lure the soft side out from Mugen's violent, feral character, and Mugen, pulling her along, just like he's pulling me along now, the carrot in front of the stubborn ass. He would drop me like a dull blade. Then where would I be?' Poor Jin. I figured you'd become someone's lucky bitch after I left you. Then again, I figured you'd do a _little_ bit better than this guy. Is that really the best you could get? A petty criminal? Eh… I guess no one else wanted anyone as disgusting as you…"

He picked another page at random. "'I had a dream about Yukimaru last night. I was walking in the forest and I saw him standing against a tree, _as_ a tree. I tried to strike him but my sword went right through him. Then it began stuck; the tree was suddenly solid, with my katana embedded in it, and Yuki was behind me. I don't know what this means. I can't sleep now because I keep remembering him. I remember playing shougi one time with him. He never beat me; but when I checkmated him, he asked why I never let him win. I pointed out this would defeat the purpose of the game, which is to learn to plan ahead and expect moves. Yuki was never very good at this… anyways, he said that just to let him win once would at least show him I had no ill-will toward him. I think his exact words were, "Sometimes I think you're out to get me." I said, "Hmm." I wish now I'd apologized. I wish I could apologize for a lot of things, and take it all back.' But you can't, because he's dead." Shenji snapped shut the book and tossed it aside. "Just like you'll be this morning. Who knows? Maybe you'll see him again. Maybe then you can grovel for forgiveness for abandoning him here."

"I was protecting him," whispered Jin.

"_Protecting_ him?" Shenji chuckled. "From what? Yourself? He would have been glad to start a life on the run with you. He was _heart broken_ when he found out you'd disappeared. Without even leaving a note…"

It was the first time Shenji had gotten any reaction at all out of Jin. He was immensely pleased by it; he continued lazily, watching Jin grow more and more upset.

"You probably don't know what happened after you left, do you? No, you don't have any idea the havoc you caused. Let me tell you, then. You deserve to know before you die. Besides, you might find some of the details interesting…"


	24. Chapter 23: After Jin's Departure

(Author's Note: Thanks to everyone who waited patiently for the next chapters… please bear with me as I write a very long yet relevant passage on the names of my characters… One thing I always do before writing about a character is to look up their name. It is interesting to note that Jin's name is something of a misnomer. Although it can be either male or female, it is more often female; it means "benevolence, tenderness, compassion, love, gentleness." Its origin is probably from the seven bushido of the samurai. "Yuki" is a similar misnomer. It is, like Jin's, primarily a female name. (The suffix "maru" literally means "circle;" in context simply means he's a boy, but no one really bothers to use it.) Thanks to Lorrie Wendell, who wrote that it is "…a name given to children born in December, meaning 'snow,' which signifies purity… and innocence." Innocence indeed. But its second meaning is, ironically, "luck, lucky, or good fortune." So, because of the biting irony of the name "Yuki" (lucky) I felt I had to "kick it up a notch" and really torture him. And although Shino isn't really mentioned here, her name means "a slender, strong rod of bamboo… the stem being a symbol of fidelity and dedication." Thanks again, Lorrie! And thanks to Shenji, who told me his name is derived from Shinji or Shinshi. "So, basically, is a cheap knock-off." Say it with a Japanese accent for the best effect. Priceless. Its meaning is "trust(worthy)" or "faith," although Shin-chan also said something about acupuncture (Shenji is a real prick, isn't he?) and its character being an anchor, so it also means strong or steadfast. He refused to explain it any further after I called him "Shin-chan." Lastly, forgive me, I translated my own name into Japanese. "Kaijou," or "son of the sea." If you see a Kaijou make an appearance, that's my ego at work.)

* * *

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

"Find anything?" asked Koto. He was leaning against the wall lazily, examining his nails and trying to pick the dirt from under them with the point of his short sword. Kohachiro had just returned to the dojo; it was sunset, and he'd been out most of the day. All the boys were wearing the same outfit—it was the uniform for students of the Mujuushin kenjetsu dojo.

"Nothing," answered Kohachiro despairingly as he sheathed his swords. "We thought we had him so many times… but we picked up a lot of false trails."

"I killed a cat," grumbled Ogura, stomping in behind Kohachiro. "Talk about a disaster… why aren't you out looking for him?"

"I'm helping keep the dojo in order," said Koto. This was, obviously, a lie. The dojo hadn't had any semblance of order since Enshirou's body had been found the previous morning. Saiyu had become an unelected leader, being one of the oldest. Most of the other older students were systematically combing the streets of Kisarazu for Jin; the younger ones were still in completely confounded state. And students of all ages had simply disappeared, presumably to find their own ways home.

"We nearly took the head off some old lady, too," grumbled Kohachiro.

"Lucky you have self-control," said Koto, still scrutinizing his nails. "Another murder would be a shame."

"Not if it was Jin's," replied Ogura. "Saiyu-san." He bowed.

"Ogura-kun," said Saiyu, managing a bow without breaking his stride. He and Kohachiro didn't need such formalities; they brushed hands when Saiyu had reached the entrance hall

"Nothing?" guessed Saiyu.

"Nada," confirmed Kohachiro, sliding off his shoes. "We killed a cat and traumatized an old woman. That's it."

"He didn't just disappear," said Saiyu irritably. (Anyone would be irritable staying in a dojo all day, waiting for news, breaking up scuffles and trying to console dazed students who wandered aimlessly and bumped into each other, leading to more spats.)

"I told you what to do, if you want to find him so bad…" drawled Koto.

"I already said _no_. Yukimaru's been through enough…"

"How's he holding up?" asked Kohachiro.

"Fine, considering the circumstances. He's still in shock, I think."

"I'm telling you, it's all an act!" said Koto with sudden passion. "How can you believe that Jin didn't tell him a _single_ thing? Come on, he was the only person Jin had! If Jin said anything—"

"He didn't," interrupted Saiyu.

"Want to know why Jin didn't leave Yukimaru a note? Because Yukimaru probably already knows everything that happened and where he is—"

"Koto, it's a closed subject," said Saiyu firmly, not bothering with the "-san" suffix. Koto sulked, but didn't argue further, sensing that Kohachiro was getting hostile. He was certainly bristling and holding the edge of his sword rather tighter than necessary.

"Another thing, Koto-san…" said Saiyu, forcing himself to use the usual respectful terms, "…I believe I saw Kariya Kagetoki stalking around…"

"Kariya-dono might have stopped by," said Koto neutrally.

"Well, I don't want him stopping by!" said Saiyu. "The man's a vulture. The last thing I need is for everyone to know of Master Enshirou-san's death…"

"Saiyu, I think everyone already knows. The townspeople have noticed us, after all…" said Ogura.

"I didn't say anything to Kariya-dono," added Koto. "But just for the record, I think he would be very sympathetic to our situation. He would not only pay a very fair price for the dojo, but mentor us for the remainder of our training…"

"A fair price?" repeated Saiyu, aghast. "How can you think of money at a time like this? Aside from that, who would he pay? No one owns the dojo at all… Jin was supposed to be Master's successor."

"That was just a rumor," said Koto dismissively. "There have been an equal amount of rumors that Master meant to turn over the dojo to Kariya-dono, who happens to be very skilled in the way of the sword…"

"I wouldn't train under him," grumbled a student, walking past. "I'd rather transfer to another, inferior dojo…"

"Thank you for your input, Shamisen," said Ogura sarcastically.

"For all we know, the dojo belongs to neither Jin, nor Kariya-san," said Kohachiro.

"Who else is there?" asked Saiyu.

Before anyone could answer (and indeed, Koto had opened his mouth to supply a list of potential candidates) the door burst open and Shenji fell in against Kohachiro.

"Shenji!" all cried. Shenji looked completely disheveled. His hair was flyaway, his glasses missing, and he had a fair amount of blood caked over his once-gray kimono.

"I found him!" gasped Shenji.

"You _found_ him?" the boys shouted, so loud that students came running. A crowd formed and it took Saiyu over an hour to shoo all the younger students away before he, along with a few others, shut themselves in a room with Shenji.

"What happened?" they all demanded, as Shenji wincingly began washing his cuts; a gash on his left arm and another across his left knee. "Where have you been?" Shenji had been missing since the previous day; no one was sure where he'd gone to.

"Oh, it was awful," he said, enjoying the attention. "I went after Jin, of course. I thought he'd go to his house, so I dug through Master's records for the location and then struck out on my own…" (Many people grumbled. Some thought it was foolish or selfish to go after him alone; others thought it was disrespectful to go through Enshirou's library so soon. But no one voiced their oppositions too loudly, wanting to know all about Shenji's encounter with Jin.) "So I found him there, and said, 'You're going to die for what you did.' He just looked at me, completely unremorseful—glaring right at me—"

"Skip it," commanded Saiyu. "Just tell us how he got away."

Looking slightly hurt and a bit flustered to have been cut down so abruptly, Shenji said, "Not much to tell. We fought. He got away. But we had a fantastic fight, let me tell you about—"

"How did he manage to cut your arm without ripping your kimono?" asked Koto.

"Oh, that. My sleeve was rolled up at the time," said Shenji dismissively.

"Did he mention me?" This question came from the screen, which had been cracked open and was host to over a dozen people peeking in and listening. Saiyu went over and opened it wide. A pile of younger boys fell at his feet, among them, Yukimaru, ruffled from multiple interrogations and looking a little like a beaten dog.

Saiyu looked reproving, but grudgingly prompted, "Shenji?"

"Nope," said Shenji. Yuki looked crestfallen. "But don't feel too bad," added Shenji quickly. "He didn't mention anyone. Except you, Saiyu. Oh, and you, Kohachiro. And Ogura, and Tamasine, and Toshi, and Shamisen, and Tomi, and Sho, and maybe Matsu—"

"Shenji!" snapped Saiyu.

Shenji smiled sweetly. "But he didn't mention you, Yuki-chan. Sorry."

"That's okay," mumbled Yuki, staring at the ground miserably. He looked up, suddenly hopeful. "But did he maybe say anything about me indirectly? Without saying my name?"

"Nope! Nothing at all. Not a word."

"...oh. Okay," mumbled Yuki, scuffing the ground with his foot.

Saiyu gave Shenji a withering glare. "Yukimaru," he said gently, rising. "It's been a long day. I think maybe you should go to bed."

Yuki nodded numbly.

"And Shenji… I think you need rest too."

"He's not so hurt," said Koto. "I'd like to know why Jin didn't kill him. Why would someone so cold-blooded spare—"

Saiyu glared Koto into silence. "Regardless, it's time for some of us to go to sleep. Everybody out."

The boys picked themselves up, a few grumbling, some wanting to hear about the fight and others wanting to know what Jin had said about them. As they filed out, Saiyu said, in a low voice, "I don't want to hear a _single thing_ about any of you bothering Yukimaru. Understood? Everyone must leave him alone tonight… he's had a very difficult time accepting this." Mumbling, everyone promised not to trouble Yuki, no matter what. The screen shut behind them.

Shenji smirked while he cleaned his self-inflicted wounds. For him, the past few days had been marvelous. He'd cut Jin down to size; he'd earned a certain amount of respect too. Then again, he hadn't reckoned on Koto's suspicions. Nor had he thought Saiyu would become the leader of the dojo like this. He was starting to think he would have been better off to leave. He'd have to tell the others where Jin had been, of course. Jin was probably already miles away, possible dead. Setting the others on his trail was the honorable thing to do; they wouldn't catch him, not now, but at least they wouldn't be able to say that Shenji had betrayed them.

Shenji rose with a final tug on the bandage on his leg, and went to the screen. He opened it and peered into the dark hall furtively. No one was there; he slipped out and closed the screen silently behind him, then snuck away through the dojo. A few times he had to duck down a hall to avoid another person, but for the most part his path was uninterrupted, because he was going towards the rooms of the younger students, most of whom were already sleeping.

He poked his head into one of the many tiny rooms. "Yukimaru?"

"What?" asked Yuki, who wasn't even bothering to pretend to sleep. He was lying on his cot with his hands behind his head, staring at the ceiling miserably.

"Mind if I come in?"

"No."

Shenji slipped in, closed the screen, and sat on the cot. Yuki barely glanced at him.

"Did Jin really kill him?"

"Yes," said Shenji.

"But why?"

"I didn't ask."

Yuki rolled onto his side with a sigh. "I always thought he hated me."

"Yuki-chan…" said Shenji soothingly, putting a hand on Yuki's back. "He didn't hate you. He just didn't _care_."

Yuki snuffled. "I thought we'd be together. He should have taken me with him. He just… _left_ me. He left me behind. Why would Jin-niisan…?"

"You would have just slowed him down," said Shenji. "He probably got some sort of sick enjoyment, too, knowing that you'd be harassed if he left you here."

"I thought he loved me."

Shenji sighed. "Yuki, you really are foolish. Can't you see Jin only cared about Jin? That's why he killed Master, for the fame. He probably did it while his back was turned, too."

"I don't know what to think anymore," mumbled Yuki, unwilling to agree that Jin was so selfish.

"I'll tell you what I think. I think he's just a common Takeda traitor. I think anyone loyal to the Shogunate would stop glorifying him and start seeing him for what he really is. A nobody, that's what. A sad little nobody. Like you."

Yuki sighed again. "You're right. Perhaps I should just kill myself."

"And let Jin go? Without even seeing him one last time?"

Yuki's eyes narrowed. He didn't say anything. Then he lapsed back into his state of complete and utter despair. "I just wanted him to like me. I thought he did. I thought…"

"You thought he liked you just because you were shudo partners?" asked Shenji humoringly.

"I don't know," mumbled Yuki. "We didn't _do _anything except spar. I think that's all he cared about—fighting."

"Poor Yuki," said Shenji with barely-concealed sarcasm. "Unrequited love is a terrible thing, isn't it? You would have given your life just to be loved, wouldn't you have?"

"A thousand times," answered Yuki.

"Maybe I can help," mused Shenji. With sudden swiftness, he lunged at Yuki. Yuki let out a squawk of surprise, and the two crashed to the ground with enough noise to wake the entire dojo. But those who'd been woken (and that wasn't many; most were too exhausted to be roused) went right back to sleep; after all, Saiyu had told them not to disturb Yuki, and they'd been expecting screams of anguish from his room since Jin's disappearance.


	25. Chapter 24: Tearing Down the Walls

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

"To be honest," drawled Shenji, "I think the only reason I came back to the dojo at all was to see your little bitch. I'd assumed I'd be given a _little_ more respect from the others, but of course I wasn't. Everyone was 'Jin this' and 'Jin that.' It was sickening, so I left again after that night. It wasn't a complete loss, I suppose. I managed to swipe some valuable wickets from Enshirou's personal collection, which allowed me to start my little town monopoly, as you called it."

Jin didn't move. He'd stop struggling and was completely frozen on the ground, breathing heavily.

"But Yuki was immensely more fun than you were, I have to say. He put up much more of a fight. Scratched me across the face; those cuts lasted _weeks_. Too bad you didn't teach him better. I eventually managed to force him down. He screamed bloody murder the whole time. Near the end he stopped, though. He was crying and calling your name…"

Jin finally snapped. The carefully built wall, the cool detachment he normally had, crumbled, and he screamed uncontrollably, a long, unbroken, animalistic scream that made the drunken samurai downstairs stir, and townspeople turn in their sleep.

* * *

Meiyo's head jerked up. "Do you hear that?"

Tamasine cocked his head. "That screaming? Yeah." The two sat at a low table, ignoring the steaming food in front of them, listening. It was a piercing howl a bit like a human's, frantic with rage and terror. It lasted for a long time; then it cracked, paused, and started again, like whoever (or whatever) was screaming had had to pause for breath.

"What _is _that?"

"It sounds a little like a big cat," said Tamasine. "But it's so…" He trailed off, unable to find a word for it. The screams were sometimes in long, continuous strands; other times, they came in short, frantic bursts, split and strangled. "I've never heard anything like it. Saiyu, listen."

"Hm?" asked Saiyu. He and Kohachiro had been entirely tuned out to their environment; they'd been playing a complicated game under the table that involved rubbing hands together and staring deeply into each other's eyes.

"Listen."

Saiyu obediently broke his gaze with Kohachiro and turned his head toward the entrance of the restaurant. The wind ruffled the sloth hanging over the doorway, and brought with it a series of sharp cries.

"Just ignore it," he said finally, turning back to Kohachiro.

"I think we should investigate—" began Meiyo, standing.

"Nonsense." Tamasine grabbed Meiyo's kimono sleeve, and with his balance upset, he tripped over his hakama and went toppling over.

* * *

"I'll kill you! I'll kill you! I'll kill you!" screamed Jin, twisting under Shenji.

"I bet you will," he replied patronizingly. Jin's voice was cracked and hoarse from screaming. He was completely out of control, but unable to vent the anger that had been released because of his position. He screamed with frustration, ending with a sob of rage. "Go ahead," prompted Shenji. "Let it all out, Jin-chan." Jin replied with a snarl that might have been an attempt at words. Shenji had to admire him. He hated himself for it, just as he had hated himself the first time he'd seen and admired Jin. But he couldn't help his awe. Without all the indifference that usually saturated Jin's action, he was an animal, hardly containable, ready to rip apart anything that came in his reach. It was very easy to believe Jin had killed Enshirou at that moment.

It took Jin over a half-hour of screaming before he was reduced to an angry, choking sob.

"Don't you feel better now?" asked Shenji kindly. Jin responded with another snarl. He had bitten his tongue at some point; his mouth was red with blood. There was something erotic about it. "I think Yuki knew you would kill him. I think that's why he went after you. He was, after all, too much of a coward to really kill himself. Having you kill him was the closest he could manage. And you _did_ pull through magnificently, Jin-chan. Congratulations. At least you fulfilled _one_ of Yuki's needs."

Jin made another small choking noise and closed his eyes. Shenji reached down and gently pulled away his glasses; Jin didn't notice. He was too lost in memories, memories that suddenly held so much significance than before because of what he knew now.

* * *

_Yuki had never said it, but there was implied dominance between them. He would do anything Jin asked him, gladly. He practically tripped over himself to fetch anything Jin asked, to slide aside screens for him, to lend a listening ear whenever it was needed, which was very rarely. In turn, Jin played with him, let him gape over his kata, took him to meditations. It was a joke at the dojo: Mariya Enshirou, they all said, was a lion teaching to a cub. And Jin was the cub teaching to the kitten. Few people thought highly of Yuki, and all thought it was a waste of Jin's talent to spend so much time with him. But many others said it was a good partnership. They pointed out Jin was too detached from everything to ever mentor anyone properly; and if anyone should be neglected, it was Yuki, who wasn't showing much potential anyway. No other students had approached Jin about being shudo partners; they were too intimidated. And Jin was so completely cold, to most, it was a miracle he and Yuki had ever managed to be partnered successfully together at all._

"_Jin-niisan?"_

"_Yes?"_

_Jin was sitting on the edge of his bed, lovingly polishing his sword. Yuki was standing, poking at a spider that was trying to descend from the ceiling. He watched it swaying in front of his face._

"_Yes?" repeated Jin, in an irked voice, looking up._

"_I have a question."_

"_Then ask it," said Jin harshly, going back to running down the length of his blade with a rag._

"_Would you say we're very typical shudo partners?"_

"_I'd say it depends on what you mean by 'typical.'"_

"_Do you think we have a relationship like other shudo partners would have?"_

_Jin cocked an eyebrow without looking up. "I don't get your meaning, Yuki-chan."_

"_I can't make it any clearer than I already have."_

_Jin raised his sword up and examined it closely, turning it to catch the light from the hall. "I suppose we're similar to any other pair. Why?"_

_Yuki watched the spider run the length of his index finger. He brought up his other finger to block its path, but it just climbed over. He shook it from his hand and then dropped into a crouching position to watch it scuttle over the floor. "Sometimes I wonder if I'm a burden to you."_

"_Not at all. I'm glad to call you my little brother."_

"_Are you?"_

"_Why shouldn't I be?"_

"_Sometimes you seem… bothered by me."_

"_No," said Jin. "Never. I just don't have as much energy as you. I know I'm boring, and sometimes short-tempered, but never bothered. You're one of the brighter aspects of my day."_

"_Then why—" Yuki stopped himself very quickly. He'd slipped his sandal from his foot and put it in front of the spider, forcing it to change direction._

"_Why what?"_

"_Nothing."_

"_Tell me," demanded Jin, laying his sword back over his lap and beginning to polish the other side._

"_I've noticed other shudo partners have relationships different from ours."_

"_Of course they do. Everyone has different friendships, because they're different people," said Jin calmly, working a spot on the blade with his thumb. "You can't envy them, Yuki-chan. You're comparing apples to oranges."_

"_Sometimes I think you think I'm worthless."_

_Jin looked up, clearly startled. "Yuki-chan! How could you think that? There is no one in this dojo I'm closer to than you."_

_Yuki propped up his head with one fist, continuing to force the spider to run in an inescapable circle of sandal walls. "I don't know," he said. He added, almost sarcastically, "Jin-san." He purposely left out the "nii," the title of "older brother."_

_Jin set aside his sword, rose, and lay on the floor beside Yuki. He propped a fist against his cheek and turned to Yuki. "Okay. What's happened? Why are you suddenly so worried? Who's put these ideas in your head?"_

"_No one," said Yuki. He sat up and put his sandal back on his foot. The relieved spider disappeared in a tiny crack in the wall. "I've just noticed it, myself."_

_Jin rolled over lazily, propping himself up half-heartedly. "Come on. Something must have prompted this change in you. You're always so happy."_

"_Last night I wanted to come see you."_

"_Why?"_

"_See! That's what I mean!"_

"_What?" asked Jin, looking both confused and alarmed. "What do you mean?"_

"_I said I wanted to come see you, and you asked why! You always ask why! Why can't you just let me come see you for no reason, other than we're friends and partners? Why do you need a reason? Why don't you ever come see me? It's because I'm a burden to you! You have me around if it's _justifiable_, but you don't _want_ me." He glared at Jin._

_Jin rose. "Yuki, of course I want you!"_

_Yuki turned away and crossed his arms. "No you don't," he said._

"_Yes, I _do_," said Jin with gentle force._

_Yuki turned to sneak a peek at Jin over his shoulder. "Jin-niisan… you know I'd do anything for you?"_

"_I know, Yuki-chan."_

"Anything_?"_

"_Yes."_

"_All you'd have to do is ask, and I'd do it, no matter what it was."_

"_Yuki-chan," said Jin, with the same gentle force, "I know. I've known that a long time."_

"_Then… then why don't you ever ask?"_

_Jin looked confused. "Ask for what?"_

_Yuki sighed with disgust. "Excuse me, Jin-san," he said sarcastically. "I have to go practice my kata." He gave Jin the smallest bow he could before leaving the room, slamming the screen so hard it bounced back open. Jin ran a hand over his face before he went back to polishing his sword._

* * *

"Yuki," sobbed Jin.

"Did you love him, Jin?" asked Yuki maliciously. He already knew the answer. Of course he knew it; that was why he'd returned to the dojo, after all. Yuki was the only friend Jin had had. And it wasn't enough to just control Jin. Shenji wanted every little piece of his life, as if by controlling Jin, he could control himself. That was what life was all about, after all: power, control. Shenji had always been miserably aware of his own deficiency when it came to control. He'd known it since he was eight, when he'd first come to the dojo and seen him, the same age, that little black-haired boy practicing in the courtyard. So perfectly disciplined, his concentration intense, his movements as fluid as water. And then, those awful words: "He's a Takeda." A passing comment from another student, simple and poignant. But not. Jin wasn't just a Takeda. He was a traitor. A betrayer of the Shogunate, to whom the Miyazakis had always been faithful. A symbol of every evil, everything Shenji was joining the dojo to fight against. And the sickening irony was that Jin had been blessed with everything Shenji didn't have: discipline, form, and Master's respect. And still, even knowing he was a backstabbing Takeda, even knowing that he had been wrongly bestowed with greatness, still Shenji admired him. Shenji didn't have the control to stop marveling at Jin. He agonized over it, and spent long nights awake, imagining Jin in the courtyard, practicing his kata. Slowly, as he grew, a plan evolved in his mind. He would never be as great as Jin. But why should Jin be great? He didn't deserve it. In all fairness, Jin had to be cut down, dishonored into his proper level. So what if Shenji wasn't great? At least Jin would be below him, as he rightfully should be. And maybe Jin's greatness would wear off on him, as it should be. And once he was reduced to the worm he rightfully should be, then there would be no awe, no feelings of confusing devotion or keenness. The world would right itself, and once more they would be a Miyazaki and a Takeda, one controlled and loyal and good, the other animalistic and ugly and bad.

"Did you love him, Jin?" asked Shenji, savoring the control.

"Yes," cried Jin.

"It's too bad he'll never know. It would have meant everything to him." Jin didn't respond, except to cry softly into the floor. He was past being angry at Shenji; how could he be angry when it was entirely his fault for leaving Yuki, for not loving Yuki, for letting Yuki think he was worthless? He flinched instinctively when Shenji reached out to stroke his hair.

"That's it, huh, Jin?" asked Shenji softly. He'd done it; he'd broken Jin. But he didn't feel what he'd thought he would. There was no glorious release, not even a relatively powerful satisfaction. There was only a slightly bored, fleeting gratification, like the passing pleasure one has when they hear a snail's shell crunch under their foot. Nothing more.

Jin took a few deep, steadying breaths while Shenji stroked him. For a while there was silence, each listening to the other's breath. Shenji's hand paused; he gently put it on Jin's chest, working his kimono open. Jin didn't protest or struggle; he was still, borderline compliant, like a lamb at slaughter. It was somewhat disappointing.

Shenji's fingers paused on Jin's abdomen. A scar ran across his stomach. "Jin," he said in surprise. "You tried committing seppuku?"

"Hmm," said Jin flatly.

Shenji stroked the long, jagged scar and tried to imagine Jin tearing his sword across his stomach. What had stopped him? Why hadn't he finished?

"Jin? Why didn't you?"

There was a long, long pause. Shenji's fingers were still on Jin's scar.

"It wouldn't have worked," mumbled Jin finally.

"What's that supposed to mean?" demanded Shenji. Jin didn't answer, but Shenji already had an idea of what he meant; you can't kill something that's already dead.


	26. Chapter 25: Submision

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

"I thought you said you would get me in to see Jin!" complained Meiyo as the five samurai moseyed back to the dojo.

"We will, we will," they all assured him. All were stumbling slightly, from exhaustion, and from too much sake, and from the general feeling of euphoria they'd been in all night. Meiyo was the worst of them; he walked like he was just learning, tripping frequently and biting his tongue to keep from swearing.

"It's sunrise already!" he grouched, as the sun bathed the sleepy city in golden light.

"Don't worry, Meiyo. After he kills Shenji, we'll have to wait another day before we can execute him. You'll have a whole day to get even…"

"_What_?"

"Well, we have to kill him at sunrise or sunset," explained Saiyu. "It's just how things are done… and the fight with Shenji is going to waste this morning. So we'll have to do it the next morning. Frankly I'm against drawing it out like this, but—"

"No, the part about Shenji!"

"Oh. Yes, Shenji. Weren't you listening earlier? The fool demands a rematch. And… well, he's getting it."

"Probably because everyone wants to see Jin kill him," said Kohachiro. "Personally I always thought he was a creep. It won't be any great loss if Jin makes an ass of him in front of everyone."

"Forget Shenji. We get to see Jin in action!" exclaimed Tamasine.

"You've already seen Jin 'in action,'" grumbled Saiyu in disgust. "You went to the same dojo."

"Oh… yeah."

"You _fought_ him, for pete's sake!"

"But this is different."

"_How_, Tamasine? Answer me that. How is it different now than it was then?"

"Hmm," said Tamasine, scratching his head.

The dojo came into view around the next corner. The samurai made their way toward it, sleepy and content from their night of celebration. Shopkeepers watched them walk past as they swept their floors and snapped their blankets outside to clean them of dust.

"Can't I see him before they fight?" asked Meiyo anxiously.

"Meiyo, stop worrying yourself. We promised you. We'll honor that promise," said Saiyu gently. The samurai all paused in front of the doors of the dojo to slip off their sandals. The samurai who'd come there earlier had been able to take them off inside and shelve them on the shelves that weren't broken or inhabited by bats; but Saiyu, Meiyo, and the rest were late, and forced to discard their shoes outside the door, like peasants.

"At least we haven't missed the fight," whispered Tamasine loudly as they entered the sacred halls of their old dojo.

"So, uh, just out of curiousity… where are they keeping Jin?" asked Meiyo.

"We'll show you after the fight."

"But what if Jin loses?"

"Oh, come on. Jin can't lose."

Meiyo looked doubtful. The other samurai helped him stumble towards the courtyard. Already, people were lined up around its edges and leaning out of the upper stories. There were about three or four dozen, enough to make it crowded, but hardly a majority of the students who'd once lived and studied in the dojo.

"Meiyo!" exclaimed Kohachiro, as Meiyo began forcing his way rudely through the crowd. He, Tamasine, and Saiyu forced their way after him, apologizing to the people they were pushing past. Kohachiro managed to grab Meiyo's arm; Meiyo groped behind him, like there was something on his back, then whipped around with a hiss of "let go!"

"How can you be so rude?" demanded Kohachiro reprovingly. "We came late! We shouldn't be here!"

"Shut up," said Meiyo. "I want a good view."

The others mumbled disapprovingly, but didn't return to the back of the crowd. Their view from the front was perfect.

"Psst! Kohachiro!" Shamisen scuttled across the courtyard and skidded to a stop in front of them. "I've been looking everywhere for you. I need Jin's katana."

"What? But… it's mine."

"Just give it to me!" Shamisen and Meiyo grabbed at the katana at the same time. Kohachiro protested again. Saiyu told him to shut up.

"Who's bright idea was it to give him swords, anyway?" he grumbled. "This whole fight is ridiculous…"

"Like he can really escape with all of us here."

"He can still kill! And we're right up front! We'll be his first targets!"

"Look, Kohachiro. I'm playing the world's smallest shamisen," said Saiyu sarcastically. Meiyo snorted with laughter. Kohachiro sulked.

"So, speaking of Shasimen, what's the deal with Shamisen, anyway?" asked Meiyo. "I mean, his name."

"Shamisen isn't his real name," said Saiyu. "It's just a nickname. Long story, probably all happened before you came to the dojo. It all started back when—"

"Shut up, Saiyu!" cried Kohachiro, who'd somehow been jostled to the back of the crowd. He put his hands on Saiyu head and forced him down to get a clear view of the courtyard. "Look!"

Meiyo and Saiyu had been so busy talking they'd failed to notice Jin and Shenji, who were standing on opposite ends of the courtyard. For a moment, no one else seemed to notice either. But then a thick silence fell over the dojo; the only noise was the anxious rustle of the spectators. Overhead, a bird fluttered, singing shrilly. The rising sun cast a disproportionably large shadow over the courtyard; it slid over Jin's face, but he didn't even blink.

Shamisen pushed through the crowd and stumbled inelegantly into the middle of the courtyard. He cupped his hands and yelled, "Do we need an introduction or should they just go at it?"

There were mingled shouts of "yes!" and "no!"

Shamisen compromised. "You've all heard the rumors, so I'll make it quick," he shouted through his cupped hands. "Jin and Shenji—a Takeda and a Miyazaki, respectively—have agreed to battle with only their daisho; the winner gives his life to the loser. I don't know why we're doing this… it's stupid, if you ask me…"

"We didn't ask you!" shouted Tamasine. There was a ripple of laughter and few appreciative shouts of, "Good one, Toshi!"

"Tamasine!" screamed Tamasine, spraying everyone in his immediately vicinity with spittle. "Tamasine!"

"Whenever you're ready, start!" yelled Shamisen. He darted back into the crowd, not wanting to get in the middle of the fight. But neither Shenji nor Jin charged. Everyone waited with baited breath.

"What are they doing?" whispered Kohachiro.

"What's wrong with him?" asked Meiyo, who was all but being held back by Saiyu.

Saiyu squinted. Certainly, Jin looked different. He looked sick; his eyes were bloodshot and unfocussed, and he slouched a little, like he was so tired he could barely stand. And, unless Saiyu was mistaken, he was swaying, like they'd already been fighting and he was injured and exhausted. Then again, Shenji looked tired too. Neither one looked ready to fight.

The atmosphere tensed as, on some unseen command, Jin and Shenji both slowly began walking toward each other, closing the gap between them.

"Charge him… charge him… charge him," whispered Meiyo anxiously.

Both stopped, about four meters away. Jin's hands moved to his swords. Shenji was already gripping his. It was quiet enough to hear a pin drop as Jin, slowly and deliberately, unsheathed both his swords. Shenji raised his, ready to fight. A few people fidgeted nervously, having bet money on Jin to win; and judging by their stances, Shenji seemed far more prepared than him.

"Come on…" whispered Meiyo.

For a moment, Shenji and Jin just looked at each other. Then Jin, finally, moved.

He threw both swords at Shenji's feet and bowed his head.

The entire dojo erupted with noise.

"WHAT! You're forfeiting? You can't forfeit!" screamed Tamasine.

"Don't submit to him! You're better than him!" yelled Saiyu.

"Kill him! Kill him!" shouted Kohachiro.

The whole dojo suddenly fell silent again; everyone realized Jin was speaking and caught their breaths to hear him. "…more honorable to give myself willingly than to be forced to a fight a hopeless battle," finished Jin softly.

"Jin, you can't lose!" yelled Meiyo. "Kick his as—I mean, his butt!"

Excited by Meiyo's yell, the rest of the dojo began shouting as well. Jin took a deep breath and looked up at the sky. Everyone immediately was silent again as he opened his mouth to speak.

"I'm tired of fighting," he said.

"Look, Jin!" yelled Kohachiro abruptly, yanking away from Saiyu, who was holding his arm, and striding across the courtyard to him. "You _have _to fight him! The only reason you're yielding is because you know we can't kill you if you belong to him! You're a coward!"

Faster than lightning, Jin hit Kohachiro's face with the heel of his hand. Kohachiro crumpled, gushing blood. The dojo erupted into noise again.

"EVERYONE BE QUIET!" screamed Koto.

Everyone caught their breaths again.

Jin nudged Kohachiro's body away with his foot, like it was something distasteful. Saiyu, held back by Tamasine, made a few crazed squawks.

"Now, listen!" yelled Koto. "There's no reason Jin can't forfeit to Shenji! That's his choice! We can't force him to fight—are we barbarians? Shenji is a Miyazaki, and deserves Jin's servitude. You should all be ashamed of the way you've been acting! You're all upset only because you've placed bets on Jin to win—is it Jin's fault you've lost your money by gambling? And who's to say death is worse than this—we all know it's more dishonorable to be a living servant than a glorified corpse. I'd think you would have all _preferred _this outcome!"

Doubtful murmuring swept the crowd. Koto was making a persuasive argument. And whatever counter-arguments anyone had were suddenly quashed by a shout from someone upstairs: "Jin's wife is here! And she has their baby!"


	27. Chapter 26: More Deaths at Mujuushin

(Author's Note: I love Jin Junior.)

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Jin Junior twisted in his blanket.

"Shh, Jin Junior!" hissed Fuu at him.

Fuu shivered and hugged Jin Junior to her chest. Jin Junior was, of course, stolen. Small, pink, and relatively well-behaved, Fuu felt terrible that she'd dragged him out into the coldness of early morning. He was cute, too; she'd put a headband with a little bow on him, to pull back his ears. She'd wrapped him as well as she'd been able to, but she was sure he was still uncomfortable.

Jin Junior grunted.

"Shh," she said again. She hoped no one would notice that Jin Junior was a piglet.

"HEY!" she yelled as she approached the dojo, walking quickly against the cold and clinging to Jin Junior. "HE-E-EY!"

The only noise was muffled screaming and a sleepy bird hooting somewhere.

Fuu reached down. Holding Jin Junior awkwardly in one arm and groping with the other, she found a rock. She pulled back her arm and flung it at the nearest window, just as the screen slid aside and a samurai poked his head out.

"OW!" he yelped when the stone struck his forehead. His hands went up to rub the spot. "What do you think you're doing?"

"It's me, Fuu!" said Fuu. "Jin's, um, wife! And I have our baby!"

Jin Junior fretted in his blanket.

The samurai's eyes grew wide, and he ducked inside. No one had told him Jin had a child. It complicated issues immensely. He returned to the window a moment later with another samurai. "Okay…" he said grudgingly. "You can see him. Just to say good-bye. But you'd better hurry; he's sparring with someone in a few minutes."

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" cried Fuu, squeezing Jin Junior so hard that he squealed indignantly. She made sure he was wrapped tightly before she hurried around to the front of the dojo. As she did, she heard a sound like waves inside, a murmur of voices. She hoped that wasn't Jin fighting.

"Come in," said the samurai grudgingly, pulling open the door. He leaned over, to try and see Jin Junior. Fuu hugged him protectively against her chest. He made a few sleepy grunting noises and then yawned audibly. "Follow me," said the samurai. Clutching Jin Junior, Fuu followed. She heard more shouts. The man turned around so suddenly she nearly plowed into him. "Wait here," he commanded.

Fuu stood in the empty hall for a while, looking around curiously. The building showed signs of being, until recently, uninhabited. It felt strange for Fuu to imagine Jin as a child, walking down these same empty halls.

Jin Junior oinked.

"Shh!" whispered Fuu. "Please, Jin Junior, don't oink."

Jin Junior snuffled.

"That's better."

Three samurai came walking towards Fuu. "You're Jin's wife?" asked one, bowing.

"Yes," lied Fuu. She smiled at him.

"You look awfully young."

"Why, thank you," said Fuu, her fake smile broadening. "So, can I see him?"

One of the samurai reached up and rubbed his neck uncomfortably. He looked at the one beside him, a man in a green kimono with long hair. The man in the green kimono sighed. "Yes… I suppose so. He's certainly not fighting…"

Fuu raised her eyebrows questioningly, but the samurai offered no explanation, other than to quickly introduce themselves; then they turned and led her down the hall. She was careful to keep Jin Junior facing her; she thought they might get suspicious if they noticed Jin Junior had a snout.

The man in the green kimono, Toshi, held open a screen for her. She stepped out into a courtyard and immediately found herself facing a group of samurai. They took one look at her and all started talking at once. Fuu felt overwhelmed; she had no idea the dojo had been so large. There were dozens of them—and they represented only a fraction of the students.

"Move it!" said Toshi rudely, shoving his fellows aside for Fuu.

"Jin!" she yelled, dashing across the courtyard to him. His head was bowed, but it jerked up when he heard her. His eyes were wide. He didn't look happy. But at least he didn't look entirely shocked to discover he had a wife and child. "Jin!" she repeated when she reached him, pressing their bodies together. Jin Junior snorted indignantly, and Fuu quickly pulled away. (Crushing their baby probably wouldn't make the samurai around them sympathetic.)

"Fuu!" hissed Jin in a low voice. "What are you doing here? I told you to _leave_."

"I can't!" she whispered back anxiously. "Not without you. I'm sorry, Jin. I can't go to Nagasaki without you."

"You have Mugen," snapped Jin softly. "My skills are of no more use."

"Forget your skills! I don't care about your skills! I care about you, Jin! You're my friend! Even if you never talk and only go 'hmm' and think I'm annoying and would rather flirt with Mugen, I don't care. I like you and I can't just leave you here to die."

Jin looked startled that Fuu cared about him—or that anyone cared about him. "Please tell me Mugen had the sense to stay away," he asked softly.

"No, he's here too," she whispered, casting an eye around. She found him immediately; he was staring at her with his mouth hanging open, his expression clearly asking, "_You stole a baby?_" Even Mugen had his limit, and stealing a baby was it.

Jin looked like he wanted to smack her. But instead, he said, "I'll miss you too, love." He said this because Koto had strode over, clearly annoyed that Fuu and Jin Junior had interrupted his little speech.

"You! Woman!" he barked.

"Yes?" asked Fuu as innocently as she could, cradling Jin Junior in the most heart-rendering way possible.

"Why are you here? We're in the middle of something! Who let this woman in?"

"I did," said Toshi, stepping forward. "Koto-san, they have a _baby_, I couldn't deny her from saying good-bye…"

"Tamasine, you fool!"

"I'm Toshi."

"MIYAZAKI-SAN!"

Heads turned. A geisha stumbled out of the crowd of samurai and into the empty courtyard. She made a beeline for Shenji.

"Rei?" asked Toshi.

"Who're you?" asked Shenji bluntly.

"It's me! Rini!" said Rei.

"_Rini_?" repeated Toshi.

"Rini?" echoed Shenji. "Who?"

"Rini! One of your maids!" said Rei. "Don't you remember me?" It was obvious from Shenji's blank look he didn't. "You have to come home," said Rini breathlessly. "Please—our town needs you."

Shenji cocked an eyebrow. "I have no idea what you're talking about," he said.

"The town! Where you live!" she cried. "The one you saved from depression? You gave all the money to the temple and everything?"

"_What_ money?" asked Koto, turning to glare at Shenji, who was slowly sliding away.

"I don't know what she's talking about," said Shenji.

"I'm talking about our town! Our _home_!"

"Listen, Rini, or whatever your name is… I don't _care_ about your town. I don't even know who you are. We're in the middle of something important, so please leave us be."

Rini looked like she'd been slapped in the face.

"_What_ money, Shenji?" demanded Koto.

"The girl is crazy!" said Shenji quickly. "I didn't have any money when I left, you know that…"

"Then where did your big, fancy house come from?" asked Shamisen with sudden suspicion.

"The issue here isn't my house!" said Shenji. "It's about me and Jin, remember?"

Everyone remembered Jin. They turned just as Jin Junior decided he was sick of being held like a baby, and gave a massive, indignant, pig-like squeal, and twisted his body. He fell out of the blanket and plopped onto the ground still wearing his little headband.

"It's a pig!" cried Toshi.

"What—" began Koto. But he never finished. Meiyo yanked his katana out and spun around, cutting down the samurai next to him.

"TOSHI!" yelled several people.

He gaped a few times on the ground a few times, like a fish out of water, and managed to gasp his name—"Tamasine"—before closing his eyes with a final breath.

"Tamasine!" cried Toshi, pelting across the courtyard. Meiyo jumped away from the crowd, tripping over his hakama.

"Forget these!" he exclaimed, cutting them off with his own sword. He was wearing shorts underneath them; Shenji took one look at the gray shorts before he turned and went running.

"Shenji! You little traitor! Get back here!" screamed Koto, running after him. "This is all your doing, isn't it?"

Meanwhile, the crowd of samurai was swarming around Meiyo in a confused effort to stop him. Meiyo ducked a swing of a sword, landing on his hands, and swung his body around, tripping three of them at once. He hopped back up and kicked Shamisen squarely in the jaw, forgetting he was barefoot. Fortunately, the force of the kick was enough to knock him out, even without his geta.

"Jin!" cried Fuu, grabbing his kimono sleeve and pulling both of them down as someone's backswing nearly hit him. "Let's _go_!"

"Get Jin!" yelled someone.

"You're not Meiyo!" yelled someone else. It was evident by Meiyo's fighting style he wasn't a student at all—no one was quite sure what he was, or what style he was using.

Someone swung at him; he yanked back, bending over backwards and using his momentum to give the samurai a kick in the gut. Behind him, Kohachiro (nose still bleeding from Jin's punch) rose. Meiyo—or, more appropriately, Mugen—slashed him across the back; he dropped to the ground, still alive, but spinal cord severed.

All order had vanished. Several people, led by Koto and Rini, were running after Shenji. Others were trying to find Jin, who was plastered to the ground next to Fuu. Still others were crowded around Mugen, locking swords with him and accidentally locking swords with each other.

"Come on!" screamed Fuu, tugging Jin. She was practically dragging him away.

"My swords," he said, tugging back.

"Forget your swords, Jin! Come on!" she yelled, turning. She screamed; Saiyu was charging toward them. He was less than a yard away when he tripped over Jin Junior, who was scurrying around squealing with terror.

Jin yanked away from Fuu and practically dived at the ground toward his swords. Mugen stepped over him as Toshi's blade came toward him; Jin stabbed upward, ripping open Toshi's hip and causing him to fall moments before he would have eviscerated Mugen.

"Hey, I thought you were giving up!" yelled Mugen with a maniacal laugh.

"I told you to _leave_!" yelled Jin in frustration. Mugen ducked a swing, yanked Jin to his feet, blocked a swing, and sliced through the neck of a man as easily as if it were butter.

"Come on!" He grabbed Jin's arm. Jin resisted; at the same time, almost casually, his arm whipped out to cut down a samurai who'd been accidentally pushed into his reach. The crowd had dispersed; ten were lying on the ground, and at least a dozen had gone after Shenji. A fair number had simply disappeared; as far as they were concerned, Jin armed with swords and at least one of their fellows a homicidal maniac was enough cause for apprehension to warrant running away. Those who remained saw Jin and Mugen with swords, and were unwillingly to approach them.

"That's right—stay back!" warned Mugen, brandishing his katana. "We're really worked up! We'll kill you without even thinking about it! You'd have to be crazy—Jin!"

"I'm not leaving," growled Jin.

"It's the least you can do after we risked our lives to come rescue you!" shouted Fuu on the other end of the courtyard. Jin Junior came nosing over to her warily.

"You're not leaving!" said one of the samurai worriedly. His name was Matsu—he was the same age as Jin, although his face was lined with permanent creases of worry.

"You wanna piece of this? Huh?" yelled Mugen, waving his bloody katana at them again. "Jin! You… big… dummy! You're coming with us whether you like it or not!"

"No, I'm not!"

Mugen's sword flashed over Jin's head. Jin automatically blocked it, but that's what Mugen had been planning on. With a twist of his wrist, he sent the sword flying out of Jin's hand, and before Jin could protest, Mugen grabbed him around the waist and threw him over his shoulder.

"LET ME GO!" yelled Jin indignantly.

"LET HIM GO!" yelled several samurai.

"Stay back! I'm telling you, I'm on the edge!" warned Mugen, having a difficult time waving his sword threateningly and gripping Jin. "Fuu! Come on!"

Fuu wrung her hands anxiously. Somehow, she hadn't planned their rescue as simply _leaving_ in front of all these people. The only thing keeping them from attacking and overwhelming Mugen was pure intimidation; they were confused and unorganized, but it was only a matter of time before they realized they outnumbered him and charged. She scuttled across the courtyard with Jin Junior trotting on her heels, casting anxious glances at the crowd. She had enough sense to stoop down and grab Jin's sword from the dust before running up to Mugen.

"That's right! Keep your distance!" yelled Mugen, inching away. He and Fuu slipped out of the courtyard; Mugen turned and ran down the hall, clinging to an irate Jin. He, Jin, and Fuu ducked into the nearest room and slammed the screen shut. Footsteps followed them and stopped outside the door. It was one of the most bizarre situations Fuu had ever been in.

Mugen dumped Jin unceremoniously onto the floor. "Okay, what's with you?" he demanded, pointing at Jin with his sword.

"I told you _not_ to come here," said Jin.

"Do we have to talk about this now?" asked Fuu, dancing frantically on the spot as she watched the silhouettes of the samurai on the others side of the screen. Already she was hearing a few people say, "There's only a few of them…"

"Fine," mumbled Mugen, crossing the room and sliding open a window.

"Why are we _always_ going out windows? I'm not going out a window! Mugen, I'm _sick_ of going out windows."

"We're not going out the window," said Mugen casually.

"Then why did you open the screen?"

Mugen ignored her. He grabbed Jin (who protested with a yell) and stuffed him indecorously out the window. Fuu winced when she heard Jin's body land on a roof below them.

Both she and Mugen poked their heads out in time to see Jin slide down the roof and fall into a large rain barrel. He surfaced, sopping wet and sputtering with rage.

"Jin!" yelled Mugen. "I—" he hesitated a split second because of Fuu, then yelled, "I love you." He yanked Fuu's head back in and slammed the screen shut before Jin could yell back.

"What about us?" demanded Fuu.

"We're the distraction," said Mugen in a low voice. "And I'm really sorry, Fuu." He grabbed her so suddenly she didn't have time to stop him. She yelled; he had one arm around her neck, and with the other, was pointing a sword directly at her throat.

"Let up!" she cried, trying to tug him off her.

"LISTEN UP!" yelled Mugen through the screen. "I've got the girl hostage and if I'm not out of here by noon, I'm gonna slit her throat!"

"_What_?" yelled Fuu. "You're not really going to slit my throat, right, Mugen? Mugen? Oh my God! Let me go!"

He squeezed her tighter and she shut up, still trying to pry Mugen's arm off her neck.

In the hall, she could hear the samurai discussing the situation in frantic, hushed voices. Finally, one called through the screen, "Why should we care if the girl dies, anyway?"

"Because if I kill her and then kill myself, you'll never know where Jin went to," said Mugen triumphantly. "Yeah, that's right! We know exactly where he's going! We've been with him nearly a week and he told us everything!"

There was more murmuring. "Mu-_gen_!" whined Fuu. "You're really hurting me!"

"Would you shut up already?"

"I didn't agree to be a hostage!" whined Fuu, beginning to contemplate kicking Mugen in the shins. She was scared that he'd accidentally stab her if she tried, though.

"Why should we believe you know where he's going?" asked one of the samurai. "And why should we believe you'll tell us if we let you go? You're obviously on _his_ side. Besides, there are already people on the streets looking for him. He won't escape anyways."

"Do you want me to kill this chick or not?" asked Mugen, running out of answers and patience. While the samurai outside were debating what the next plan would be (to charge and kill Mugen and Fuu; to let Mugen kill Fuu; to rescue Fuu before killing her and Mugen), Mugen inched over to the window, dragging Fuu.

"You're choking me!" she cried.

"I thought I told you to shut up."

"You're the worst Buddhist I've ever met!"

"I'm still learning!" Almost casually, Mugen spared a glance out the window to see if Jin had left. He was so startled his grip on Fuu loosened. "Oh, shit…"

"What? What is it?" asked Fuu anxiously, trying to see out the window without being poked in the throat with Mugen's knife.

"He's gone."

"That's great!"

"The barrel's gone too."

It took moment Fuu a moment to realize what Mugen meant. Then she had an awful image of Jin somehow closed up inside a barrelful of water, suffocating, his last thoughts of their bungled rescue.

* * *

Weighed down by his sopping kimono, Jin had tried to heave himself out of the barrel. It wasn't the first time in his life he'd been convinced the world was against him; he was sore, bleeding, wet, without his swords, and had just been thrown out a window by his only friend.

Contemplating this, it seemed obvious what he should do: find Mugen, smack him across the face, and then return to the dojo for the punishment he rightfully deserved. How could so many people be wrong? They were right; he was a murderer—an abomination. Whatever he received, he deserved.

But first he had to get out of the water.

He had nearly pushed himself out, when he fell back. For a moment he rested at the bottom of the water and contemplated just breathing, ending his life right then and there, without worrying about fights or family feuds or honor systems or anything else.

Then everything went dark.

"Where are you sending this thing again?" asked one shopkeeper, leaning on the lid of the barrel as the other began nailing it down.

"Little town up north. Some restaurant buys it. I tell them it's natural spring water."

"Do you hear that?"

Both looked down. From inside the barrel came a series of loud bangs.

"Damn. Sounds like another rat fell in," said one.

"Forget it. He'll be dead by the time we get this thing there."

"Won't they be upset if there's a rat in it?"

"Naw. The guy who owns the restaurant doesn't even look at the stuff. Some other guy takes it all in, and he probably cares less than I do. Help me lift this, will you?"

The two crouched and heaved the large container between them; it sloshed and banged.

"Geez. This must be one hell of a rat," grunted one.

"I saw one the size of a cat yesterday."

"Sure, they get huge…"

The two shopkeepers began carrying the barrel from under the eves of the street and across it, to a cart already stacked with a few rain barrels from other shops. As they were crossing the road, a group of samurai raced past.

"HEY!" yelled one. "Have you seen a man in a blue kimono, with glasses?"

"Nope," said one shopkeeper, adjusting his grip to wipe his sweaty face. "No one's up this early."

"Besides," said the other one, "I think we'd notice if we saw a samurai in _glasses_."

The two chortled, and the disgusted samurai ran away, separating when they came to a crossroads.

"Urrgg," grunted the two shopkeepers, pushing the barrel onto the cart. From inside came more insistent bangs.

"Aww, shut up and die, rat!" said one, hammering the outside of the barrel with his fist in reply.

"Don't look now, buddy," said the other, shielding his eyes from the sun and pointing to the roof across the road, "but it looks like something fell down on your roof. There's some tiles missing."

"Damn!" exclaimed the first. "Come on, let's get it patched now, before the customers come in."

They crossed the road, and the cart with the barrels pulled away.

* * *

"We'll willing to negotiate!"

"About time!" cried Fuu gratefully.

She and Mugen had been holed up in the room for hours, and it was nearly noon. Mugen was sitting against the window ledge, one arm still around Fuu's neck, forcing her to sit in his lap. He was bored; she was terrified.

"We want to know exactly where Jin's going and what he's doing first."

"No way! You let us go, and _then_ we'll tell you where he is!"

"No deal!"

"Fine, I'll just kill her then!"

Fuu heard the samurai grumbling. A few thought Fuu rightly deserved it, after bringing a pig into their dojo; others said she was clearly only a confused child and ought to be pitied.

"What if we let you go to the entrance hall, and you told us there, and then left the dojo?" asked one samurai, sounding disgruntled that they were compromising.

"What'd you think?" whispered Mugen.

"Just say yes!"

"Yeah, okay, I agree to that!" yelled Mugen right in Fuu's ear. She cringed. "But I want Sho to promise us you'll let us go!"

"Who's Sho?" demanded Fuu.

"Sho's a samurai I met," whispered Mugen. "He took the precept I did, you know, about swearing and lying and stuff. So his word is good."

"But how do you know he won't break the precept?"

Mugen looked disgusted. "Fuu, please," he said patronizingly.

"But aren't you breaking your precept right now? You know, lying about saying you'll kill me?"

"I'm not lying."

Fuu wasn't sure if Mugen was joking or not. He didn't look like he was joking.

Outside, she heard the samurai muttering frantically, and finally, a new voice said, "Okay, okay. We promise to let you go on the condition that you tell us everything you know about Jin's location."

"You and your stupid precept," muttered one of the other samurai.

Feeling sick with apprehension, Fuu was guided (or, rather, pushed) by Mugen out of the room and the two shuffled down to the dojo's entrance hall, surrounded by samurai. Mugen kept the blade of his sword on Fuu's throat the whole time. He accidentally nicked her when they had to go down a flight of stairs; Fuu felt ready to pass out by the time they made it downstairs.

Immediately, several samurai rooted themselves firmly between the door, and Mugen and Fuu.

"We had a deal," one reminded them.

"Yeah, yeah, I know," grumbled Mugen. He took a deep breath. "Well, _we_ were on our way to Nagasaki," he began.

For a moment, Fuu had to stare at him in horror, thinking he was going to tell them everything.

"…we met up with Jin by accident. He was lost. He's on his way to Kashiwazaki. He's going to hop on a ship to Europe and get out of here."

"European ships can't go to Kashiwazaki," said one of the samurai suspiciously.

"Sure, they can't _legally_," said Mugen. "But some do anyways. He told us he was getting on one of the illegal ones, since no one could track him then. Going aboard a ship in Nagasaki would leave records, get it? So we were all going north when this whole thing started, and he was going to split up with us and go west to Kishiwazaki at the next crossroads."

"Hmm," said one of the samurai. For a long thing, he studied Mugen, who stared back defiantly and gripped Fuu savagely. Finally, the samurai nodded, and grudgingly, he and his fellows let Mugen and Fuu pass into the sunlight and the fresh outdoor air.

* * *

"Let me go!" cried Fuu.

"Not until I'm sure we're safe," said Mugen, dragging Fuu down the street with a knife still at her throat. People were stopping and turning to stare.

"You asshole! You're hurting me! Let me go!" cried Fuu, wrestling with Mugen's arm. "You lied back there! You're such a hypocritical jerk! I hate you!"

"Uh-oh," said Mugen, spotting a city guard walking toward them. (He'd probably heard from someone that a girl was being dragged down the street with a knife at her throat.)

Mugen dipped Fuu down; the knife vanished; and when the guard passed them, trying to see what was going on, all he saw were two young lovers kissing passionately.

When he'd disappeared, Mugen let Fuu go. She crashed to the ground, where she managed to kick Mugen's shin.

"GROSS, MUGEN!" she yelled, wiping her mouth.

"I didn't like it very much either, for your information!" shouted Mugen as Fuu climbed to her feet. She punched him square in the jaw and slapped his cheek. He grabbed her wrist and looked for a moment like he would snap it. Then he let go.

"You didn't have to _slap_ me," he said plaintively, rubbing his cheek. "I'm just trying to get us out of here."

"You threatened to _kill_ me!" cried Fuu.

"Aw, come on."

Fuu didn't think that was a very adequate apology; she was in a huff the rest of the day, and refused to look at or talk to Mugen at all.

As they started on the road out of the city, Fuu heard her name. She turned around and saw Rini running toward them, carrying something.

"Hi!" gasped Rini breathlessly, stopping to pant at the ground, still holding a package.

The package oinked.

"Jin Junior!" exclaimed Fuu.

"I thought you might want all this stuff back," panted Rini, thrusting an armful of pig at Fuu.

Fuu took Jin Junior; a book fell out of the blanket. "Jin's journal!"

"It was lying around and… well… I don't know, it looked important." Rini shrugged.

"Did you read it?" asked Fuu.

"I can't read."

"Why'd you come after us?" asked Mugen suspiciously. "I thought you wanted to go after your precious Miyazaki-san."

"You were right about him," confessed Rini, sounding depressed. "I don't want to talk about it right now. Let's just go."

"What'd you mean, let's go? Who said _you _could come with us?"

Rini crossed her arms and shook a strand of hair out of her face irritably. "I live north. You're on the north road. I'm coming this way _anyway_, and since I brought you your pig and your book back, the least you can do is be nice to me."

"Fine," snapped Mugen.

They resumed walking, everyone slightly mad at each other. Fuu distracted herself by unwrapping Jin Junior, who she let go on the ground, hoping he'd find his own way home. But he followed Fuu and the others at a same distant, occasionally pausing to root around along the side of the road and then trotting quickly after them to keep up.

Fuu had to force herself not to say "I told you so" to Rini or to point out that the money Shenji had been pumping into the economy of Rini's town was clearly stolen.

"So…" she began, hoping to ease the tense situation, "do you know where Jin is? Seriously?"

Mugen shrugged. "North."

"How do you know that?"

"I just know. Jin went north."

"How do we even know he escaped?" asked Rini.

Mugen shrugged again. "I just know. Trust me."


	28. Chapter 27: Balm on the Wounds

(Author's Note: Weird, weird, weird dream sequence here. I think I was probably on drugs when I wrote it.)

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

It's very easy to consider drowning oneself when one is in open air. But when one is trapped in the water, the instinct to survive takes over, and drowning is one of the last thoughts one has.

Jin learned this the hard way.

There was only a few inches of air in the barrel and it kept getting moved around every time the cart hit a bump on the road. His face crammed against the top of the barrel, gasping for air, Jin felt like he was trapped in some sort of cold tomb. It was pitch black and very tight, and his throat was swollen with panic. Why he was still even trying to survive confused him, but no matter how many times he reminded himself it was futile, he couldn't bring himself to drown. He kept his face pressed against the top of the barrel, breathing shallowly, often accidentally swallowing water and then coughing painfully.

The worst part was time. There was no sense of it at all. It was nothing but black, each sway and jolt threatening to cut Jin off from the precious little air he'd created when he'd fallen into the barrel in the first place, splashing out the water that normally came up to the rim of the barrel. A minute might have passed, or an hour. It was an eternal hell of water and blackness and suffocating.

Struggling to maintain his sense of calm, Jin began to count after a few moments of panic.

"…eight thousand six hundred ninety-two…" he mouthed, not making any noise for fear of using up all his air counting. "…eight thousand six hundred ninety-three…" He couldn't hear anything, because his ears were under water, but he could feel his own rapid breathing, and it made him unnerved. The faster he breathed, the more terrified he became; he couldn't control himself. He had never thought he was claustrophobic, but the fear was like a tangible entity that he was unable to quash. His counting tended to be faster when he was panicked, and that made it an unreliable system of telling time; and not knowing the time made him ever more panicked.

"Ten thousand!" he whispered hoarsely. "Ten thousand one… ten thousand two…" He thought about Mugen and Fuu, and wondered if they'd escaped. He hoped so. They were the only thing he cared about at the moment. He would gladly take the rest of his life in Shenji's servitude, if it meant that Fuu and Mugen could continue on their journey to Nagasaki and find the samurai Fuu so desperately needed to meet. But the fools—they'd come after him and ruined everything. He didn't want to fight, and Mugen had made him fight, just like always. He'd _had_ to fight, to protect Mugen. If only he'd been killed. Then Mugen and Fuu wouldn't have tried anything so stupid, so dangerous. "…twelve thousand four hundred three…" Where did they get off, pushing him out a window, anyway? Couldn't they see he didn't want to be rescued? Couldn't they see what everyone else saw? That he was a freak, a monster, deserving of Shenji's mastery. No, not deserving. He was _lucky_ that someone like that would want him at all. "…fifteen thousand hundred fifteen…" What did Mugen mean when he said "I love you?" Why had he said that? Maybe Jin had misheard… "…sixteen thousand two hundred…" He was starting to feel drowsy, dizzy and disoriented. He tried to tell himself that it was only the rocking of the barrel, but in the back of his mind, he couldn't quell the rising panic, the little voice that screamed _Air! Air! AIR!_

His body was cramping from being in the tight space. It was getting harder and harder to hold himself up. He felt tired… like he could just sink down… like sinking down into a deep sleep, heavy warm quilts, sinking and floating away…

The light came so suddenly that Jin cringed in pain and covered his eyes with his arms. His eyes had been closed, but the light seared them anyways; if they'd been open, he was sure he would have been blinded.

Suddenly he twisted, realizing he'd pulled his arms up; his arms were no longer confined. None of him was.

Startled, he opened his eyes and looked around. He was still in water, but bright, clear water. No barrel; no darkness. And… no suffocation.

He wasn't breathing, but he didn't feel any crushing pressure in his chest at all. No pain.

Confused, Jin twisted around, looking around in the water for some sign of what was going on. But there was nothing but water, and above him, light streaming down.

A school of fish slid over his head, glittering like gold.

Jin realized he was sinking.

Swimming slowly, he forced his way towards the light, his clothes pulling him down. It was a long, strenuous journey, but Jin didn't rush it; he didn't have to breathe.

The light grew brighter and brighter until he was all but blinded by it; then he broke the surface with a gasp and looked around him, heart hammering.

He was in a river, not the ocean. Everything was quiet, but it was a peaceful silence. Birds were chirruping quietly; the wind made the trees whisper, and over it all, the river trickled.

Jin looked down in horror. He was no longer swimming, but it didn't matter, because he was kneeling on the river bed. He'd swum to the surface, but now the water was gone; there were only a few feet of water in the river. Jin stood; it came to his waist.

His stomach knotted.

Something was wrong.

He pinched himself and winced when it hurt. Sluggishly, he pulled himself out of the water and sat on the bank, feeling sick and confused.

He wanted his swords.

Knowing that nothing would ever get explained without some action, he got up, dripping, and began walking away from the river. There was something sickening familiar about everything around him, but it wasn't until he broke out of the trees that he knew where he'd seen it all before.

Before him lay an endless field with tall, waving tan grass, and a house on a hill, a single peach tree jutting out from its base.

He was home.

Jin shielded his eyes against the sun and saw another person on the hill, doing the same. The moment Jin spotted him, he waved frantically, and then began tearing down the hill.

"Jin! _Jin_!"

Jin swayed on the spot.

Yuki ran up to him, collided, and kissed him full on the mouth.

"I'm dead," said Jin. His voice was flat, and sounded strange in the open, clear air of the country.

"Oh, no," said Yuki quickly, grabbing Jin as his knees buckled. "No, no, no. You're not dead, Jin-niisan. You're not dead. It's okay."

Jin groped for his arm numbly and pinched himself again, until he felt blood under his nails.

Yuki gently grabbed his hand and pulled it away from his arm. "Jin-niisan, stop. You're not dead." He stroked Jin's face comfortingly.

"I've drowned," said Jin numbly. "Where am I? Am I in the ghost realm? I knew it, I _knew_ my karma was bad…"

"Jin-niisan, stop it," said Yuki sharply. "Does this look like some sort of hell to you? Huh?"

Jin pinched himself a third time. Yuki slapped his hand. "Stop that!"

"This is a hallucination," exclaimed Jin suddenly, feeling better. "I'm dreaming because my brain's being deprived of air."

"If it makes you feel better to say that, go ahead and say it," said Yuki gently. He set Jin down on the grass and sat across from him. "I'm glad to see you again," he added quietly.

"You too, Yuki-chan," said Jin mildly, looking up at the sky. "Will I die?"

"No. You'll be okay."

"Hmm." Jin scratched his arm. It hurt from being pinched.

"You're too hard on yourself, you know," said Yuki.

Jin shrugged.

"You need to learn to let go, Jin," said Yuki, lying down on his stomach and pulling pieces of grass to chew on the ends.

"Excuse me," said Jin, offended.

"I'm a hallucination, remember?" said Yuki mockingly. "Does it really matter if I call you Jin-niisan?"

"Well… no," admitted Jin, surprised.

"Take these off," added Yuki, reaching out for Jin's glasses and tugging them away. "Let your hair down. Rest a while."

Jin twisted his hands in his lap and wondered why he couldn't have had a better hallucination. One where he didn't feel so… exposed.

"As I was saying," added Yuki, rolling over and getting grass in his hair, "you need to learn to let go. You do this thing where you put up walls, detach yourself from everything… and bottle everything up. It used to drive me _crazy_. And now it's all getting backed up. Didn't I tell you to rest?"

Jin lay down obediently, too bewildered to disobey. Yuki wiggled up to him and tugged an arm over him. His body was warm and solid. Jin's hallucination was starting to scare him, because it was something he couldn't control, just like his fear, just like the imprisonment in the barrel.

"Control," scoffed Yuki. "That's all Shenji cares about. Jin, you're better than him. You have more to care about than just _control_."

"I'm not better than him," said Jin softly.

"Jin…" murmured Yuki sadly. He kissed Jin's neck. "You're a lot more vulnerable than you think. Shenji is no great demi-god. He's a regular person—an insecure and jealous person, at that. And you've let his psychological bullying belittle you. Come on, Jin. You know better than that…"

Jin shook his head. "You're asking me to think that I'm a better person than he is. But who lost their parents? Who killed Master? And who…" He shrugged.

"Jin, said Yuki gently. "Was any of that your fault? Could you, at seven years old, save your parents from the Shogun? Did you know Master was coming to kill you, or that it was him you were fighting? And is it your fault Shenji is a sick, depraved person? None of it is your fault, Jin. You have as much control over you life as a grain of sand in the ocean. But you don't have to _control _your life to live it. There are greater forces in the universe than just _you_ or just Shenji or just the government. There's a whole, completely unfathomable guiding hand out there. It's time for you to let go, stop blaming yourself."

"You weren't so wise when you were alive," said Jin, feeling miffed at Yuki's speech.

"No one ever is," said Yuki.

Jin shook his head. "What am I saying? I'm only dreaming of you, anyway." He pinched his arm and murmured, "Wake up, Jin…"

"How many times do I have to tell you to stop that?" demanded Yuki. "You've got another eight minutes here, so knock it off!"

"How dare you speak to me like that!"

"Didn't I just tell you to learn to _let go_? Sheesh, can't you take any advice? Don't dead people have any credit any more?"

Jin looked at him sideways. "Did you really love me, Yuki-chan?"

Yuki's face twisted into a painful, sad smile. "Yes. Of course I did."

Jin lowered his head. "I'm sorry I wasn't a better shudo partner to you."

Yuki's smile this time was sincere. He laid a hand over Jin's. "You were the best."

"If I'd taught you better, Shenji wouldn't have…" Jin had to look away; he was choked up, and would rather leave a thought dangling than reveal his emotions.

"Jin. Didn't I just say it wasn't your fault? Hm? It was Shenji's. All Shenji's. Not yours. You were everything to me; you brought me nothing but happiness. I don't want you to beat yourself up over what happened."

"But Yuki-chan… I killed you."

"I was fated to die," said Yuki with a shrug. "I _knew_ I'd die. But I died happy. I died in the arms of the only man I've ever loved, and the last thing I heard was his voice whispering my name. Don't you think I was happy?"

Jin managed a small smile. "Does it… hurt to die?"

Yuki shrugged. "Not as much as some things in life do."

"I'm sorry," Jin said again.

"No more apologies, Jin. They aren't needed here."

Jin nodded miserably, pulling grass from the ground and watching it slip through his fingers. Yuki reached out and gently tugged his kimono. "Did I ever tell you about the first time I saw you?"

Jin shook his head.

"It was my first day in the dojo. You were talking across the courtyard like a scowling shadow, and I fell in love. I spent weeks stalking you, trying to figure you out. You didn't make it easy."

Jin smiled at the sky. "I didn't think anyone could like me."

"Everyone told me, 'Yukimaru, that man is less nurturing than a desert. He's a good swordsman but he'll be a terrible mentor. Go find someone else, someone who you deserve, who will at least love you back.' But I didn't want anyone else. So I kept after you, for weeks and weeks, knowing eventually you'd agree to have me."

"Are you jealous of Mugen?" asked Jin abruptly.

"Jin, please," said Yuki with a roll of his eyes. "I'm_ dead_."

Jin pinched himself.

"If you pinch yourself one more time," warned Yuki, pushing his hair from his boyish face, "I swear, I'll…"

"You'll what?"

"I don't know," admitted Yuki.

Jin traced the ground with a finger, still lying on the grass. His clothes were dried form the sun and he felt warm, and as comfortable as one can be when they're talking to someone they've killed. "Why…" began Jin. He trailed off and shook his head.

Yuki fixed him with a cat-like stare of intensity and said, "Why you're here? Why I'm here? Mostly because of the air deprivation. But also because you needed _someone _to tell you it's not your fault. I don't expect you to let it all go right away. But you need to start, Jin. You'll meet Shenji one more time, I can guarantee that. But it'll all come out alright in the end. And after that, I want you to promise me you'll get better. Promise me you'll let yourself heal. And… I want you to promise you won't wait this time. Do everything for Mugen that you put off doing for me. Don't leave with any regrets."

Jin bowed his head. "I promise, Yukimaru."

Yukimaru scoffed slightly. "I don't know…" he muttered. "I think I'm a bit more attractive than that scruffy, ill-mannered…" He trailed off.

"So dead people _can_ be jealous," mused Jin.

"Maybe a little," admitted Yuki.

"Can I wake up now?"

"No. You've still got a few minutes."

Jin sighed. He was sick of this hallucination. It seemed like a waste of time; and it made his head hurt.

He put his hands behind his head and closed his eyes, basking in the warmth of his dream-sun.

"This is a waste of time," voiced Jin after a moment.

"I'll admit, I sort of planned for this," answered Yuki.

"_Why_? We're done talking, aren't we?"

"Yes. But some things don't need words." Yuki reached out and stroked the sliver of Jin's chest that was exposed. He shivered.

"But you're not real."

"So what? You have an opportunity to make peace with me. Are you taking it or not?"

Jin turned his head and looked at Yuki's pleading face. He opened his arms and pulled Yuki close to him. The two embraced under the sun for a long time, their heartbeats synchronized.

"Time to wake up now, Jin."

"I don't want to leave you again."

"It's only a dream, isn't it?" asked Yuki mockingly.

"I don't want to go back," said Jin, clinging to Yuki.

"We'll meet again, someday. But now you need to go back," said Yuki gently. "Who's going to take care of Mugen and Fuu if you don't?"

Jin looked at Yuki, teetering on the edge of tears. Yuki reached out and cupped his cheek. "Jin," he whispered, "sometimes, it's okay to cry."

Jin leaned forward and kissed him, his tears running down his face. "I'm sorry," he gasped, groping for Yuki's mouth. "I'm sorry, Yuki-chan, I love you…"

"Shh." Yuki rocked Jin. "You'll be okay, Jin. Shh. It's time to go back now."

"But we'll see each other again?" asked Jin anxiously, stroking his thumb over Yuki's face.

"I promise you, Jin. And next time… next time, I promise I'll be more respectful."

Jin laughed through his tears. "And I'll act my age."

Yuki nodded approvingly. "Then… good-bye, for now. Remember what I told you." He reached forward and kissed Jin once last time. His lips were cold, as cold as ice; and the icy wetness spread through Jin's body in tremors, soaking him, paralyzing him, invading his chest, making him sick.

His eyes jerked open and he woke on the floor in a puddle of water, choking and coughing, with more than one bewildered kitchen worker standing over him.

* * *

The barrels had made it to the little tea house and been unloaded in a back room. One, noted one of the employees, was immensely heavy and obviously had something in it.

"Just a rat," assured the man who delivered them, as the two wobbled inside with the massive barrel between them.

"Must be one hell of a rat."

"Some get as big as dogs, down in Kisarazu."

"Let's get it out before it rots in the water."

They had pried open the lid and been greeted with the sight of, not a rat, but a human being floating face-down, robes and hair billowing around him like kelp in a stagnant pool.

"Oh, shit!" exclaimed the kitchen boy. He pushed his shoulder against the barrel and tipped the whole thing over. A wave of water, carrying with it the man, spilled onto the floor.

"Is he dead?" asked the man who was delivering, looking anxiously.

"I don't know," said the boy, kneeling.

The samurai twitched.

That had caused a real commotion. Within minutes, the cook and the waitresses and a few curious customers were standing over him, wondering what to do as he twitched and moaned and cried.

Finally, just as the cook suggested punching him in the stomach to get the water out of his lungs, his eyes had opened and he'd turned over on his own, coughing until there was nothing left to cough up.

"That's it," encouraged the cook. "Get it all out, hon."

"We ought to tell the owner about this," said the boy who'd pushed the barrel over. "Where is she?"

"Where?" asked the cook. "Hell, I don't know. KUMI-SAN!" she yelled. "KUMI-SAN…!"

* * *

"We could eat him."

"We're _not_ eating my baby."

Mugen cast a longing look over his shoulder at the piglet that was still following them. The road they'd been on was becoming more and more overgrown. Currently, it was only two dirt tracks; the grass that lined it was slowly taking it back. They had passed a single, wide paddy, where a couple of farmers had looked up in shock. All three travelers had an ominous feeling that they were heading farther and farther away from all cities, and soon would be completely lost in the wilderness without food.

But, Mugen assured them, he knew exactly where they were going. ("Just like he did when he led us through that bamboo forest," Rini had muttered sarcastically.)

"We should have asked those farmers where the next village is," said Fuu unhappily. Behind her, Jin Junior sneezed.

"Awww!" she and Rini exclaimed at once.

"Come on… don't you guys like bacon?" prompted Mugen. Fuu and Rini stared at him in horror. "Ham?" he pressed.

"You're sick."

"Aw—c'mon! He's not really a baby! If you hadn't named him after Jin, we'd probably already have fried him."

"Question!" said Rini, jumping into the conversation with a quickness that implied she thought she'd be cut off. "How are you so sure of where Jin's going?"

Mugen shrugged. "Easy. Jin goes north. It's just what he does. And we just left Kisarazu. He probably took the same path he did last time he left Kisarazu."

"Jin's not that dumb."

"I didn't say he was," said Mugen flatly. "He just does stuff, you know? Like… what's it called…"

"Routine? Habit?"

"Yeah. That's why he's so boring."

"You say he's boring," mumbled Rini quietly to Fuu, "but you're in _love_ with him."

Fuu snorted. Mugen turned to glare at them. "Are you talking about me?"

"No," they said in unison.

Mugen looked them up and down suspiciously. Even while slouching, with his sword hung behind his back, he could still pull off a threatening look. Rini and Fuu tried to appear innocent.

"Hurry up," grumbled Mugen finally, turning and picking up his pace. Fuu and Rini trailed behind beside each other, one in each track of the little path.

"He just can't _wait_ to be reunited with his long-lost love," muttered Rini sarcastically out of the side of her mouth. Fuu snorted again.

Mugen whipped around. "Stop talking about me!"

"We weren't," said Rini with wide eyes. She waited until he'd turned back around before mumbling to Fuu, "How'd you end up with these two guys, huh?"

"I wanted some bodyguards to help me find… this guy," said Fuu cautiously. "They were the best I could find. At fighting, I mean."

"They must drive you crazy."

"They used to try killing each other constantly," said Fuu. "So, yes, between the fighting and the flirting, I'm feeling kind of crazy."

"Too bad about that," mused Rini. "He's kinda cute."

"Yeah," agreed Fuu dreamily.

"I mean, he's strong… he's mysterious… he's graceful… he's got this weird energy you can almost touch…"

"And dark eyes…" added Fuu with a sigh. "I just wish he weren't so quiet."

"Huh?" Rini looked at Fuu sideways. "I'm talking about Mugen!"

"Oh." Fuu blushed. "Yeah, I think he's obnoxious."

"STOP TALKING ABOUT ME!" roared Mugen ahead of them.

* * *

"I know you!" exclaimed Kumi. She's just been dragged into the back room by a waitress, to find Jin propped up by the cook, sipping sake and looking like a bedraggled, half-drowned animal.

Jin looked up at her, shocked. "Kumi?"

"And Yori, right!" she exclaimed. "By Jove, I never thought I'd see _you_ again. This is incredible!" She scrutinized Jin—weak, soggy, and splayed out on the ground like a dying animal. "You don't have the best luck, do you?"

"Guess not," mumbled Jin with a twisted smile.

"Well, come on!" said Kumi cheerfully. Then, with sudden fury, she turned to the staff. "Get this man some food, will you? What are you all standing around for! Get to work!"

The kitchen staff immediately immersed themselves in a flurry of activity, while Kumi and the cook dragged Jin to his feet and pulled him into the teahouse. She was stouter than he remembered, but with a warm, comforting aura, like a fat mother hen.

Jin coughed up some more water, but Kumi just laughed it off.

"I can't believe you're back," she said gratefully, flopping down across from Jin. "How'd you get here? How'd you get in a barrel of water, anyway?"

Jin looked hopelessly confused by these questions. "A lot's happened," he said finally, peeling the wet sleeves of his kimono from his skin.

"Well… tell me."

"You own the teahouse now?"

"My father died last year," said Kumi breezily. "So it's mine. I'm young, but hey, I've been here since I was a kid. I know what I'm doing. Me and a cousin are running it. But you're avoiding the questions. What happened?"

Jin sighed. "The dojo found Jin."

"That's great!" exclaimed Kumi.

"He got away," added Jin.

"Oh." Kumi's face fell. "And… this somehow led to you being crammed in a rain barrel?"

"Hmm," said Jin neutrally.

Kumi shook her head in disbelief. "I'll tell you one thing, Yori. You may have bad luck, but you sure can survive anything. I mean, geez, I'm surprised you didn't drown."

"Hmm," repeated Jin.

"Are you planning on going back to Kisarazu?"

"Yes," said Jin. "There's something I owe someone there."

"Yeah? Hope it's something good."

"Not really."

"Too bad."

They lapsed into silence. "Hey, Yori?"

"Yes?"

"I hope I didn't scare you off. I mean, you know, last time we saw each other."

Jin looked up with a small smile. "The kiss, you mean? No, that was nice. I appreciated it."

"Married yet?"

"No."

"Me neither."

"I used to have someone…" Jin trailed off.

"What happened to her?" asked Kumi softly.

Jin shrugged. "I made a commitment to someone to do something first. I was going to go back for her. But then… some other things came up. And now… I'm indebted to someone else."

"Glad you made that nice and clear," said Kumi sarcastically with a shake of her head. Her voice softened. "But I'm glad to see you, Yori. I've thought a lot about you over the last few years. I hoped life was treating you okay."

"Not particularly."

"Well," said Kumi, "if you ever need a job as a waiter…"

She and Jin chuckled amiably. Jin felt like he'd suddenly been thrust back several years, like he was younger. Much, much younger. He'd aged a lot since he had left Kumi's teahouse the first time; being back, under very similar conditions, gave him an irrational sense of youthfulness, like he'd just been thrust out into the world and had the opportunity to fix everything bad that would come to him the second time around.

"So… what's with this indebting thing?" asked Kumi.

Jin lowered his head. "I wasn't entirely honest with you last time we met."

"Yeah. I figured."

"My… assailant… wasn't a Takeda," he said, choosing each word carefully and speaking in a soft voice. "I'm a Takeda myself. It was a Miyazaki. Our families… aren't on the best terms."

"Mm, mm, mm," said Kumi, nodding.

"This Miyazaki and I agreed to a duel and… he won. So I owe my life to him. We were separated accidentally."

Kumi looked puzzled. "You owe your life to him? What… you're his slave?"

Jin looked surprised by her choice of words, but then bowed his head. "Yes… I suppose so."

Kumi shook her head violently. "Yori!" she snapped. "That's the stupidest thing I ever heard! Losing a fight doesn't mean someone owns you."

"We agreed to terms…" Jin began, but Kumi cut him off.

"Oh, shut up. You samurai and your dumb honor code! Yori, first of all, you can't ever really give yourself away to anyone. You have a soul, and it's not something you can just tie up a package and gamble away in a fight."

Jin looked doubtful. Kumi reached over the table and took his hand. He gave it to her willingly.

"Yori, ever had a dog?"

Jin smiled. "Yes, I did."

"That dog was yours, wasn't he?"

"Yes."

"Ever tried to train him to do something?"

"Several things," said Jin. "But he normally wouldn't…" He trailed off.

"See? That dog lived with you. But were you _really_ his master? No, of course not. You can't really manipulate living things like they're just objects."

"But he wasn't _wild_ or anything," said Jin.

"He didn't stay because you owned him, Yori. You can't own living things. He stayed because that dog loved you. If you want to give yourself to someone, do it for someone you love. Don't gamble your soul off in a battle. That's just wrong. Everything's free; you only get owned when you give up and let the other person manipulate you. I'm free, you're free… we're as free as we let ourselves be. And putting limits on yourself… hell. That's just wrong."

"Hmmm," said Jin, long and thoughtfully while Kumi stroked his hand. "I think you might like Mugen, Kumi."

"Who's Mugen?"

"He was—is—was—he's a sort of… soul mate… he's from Ryukuu… well, actually, I meant to kill him but I can't… and now we're friends… what?"

Kumi laughed and squeezed Jin's hand. "Sometimes I wish I led your life, Yori."

Jin shook her head. "That's a terrible wish."

Kumi sobered up quickly. "A couple of misfortunes don't make your life not worth living." She added, somewhat annoyed, "How'd your stomach heal, by the way?"

"Fine. It left a scar."

"And… your other injuries?"

"Recently aggravated again," said Jin crossly.

"Oh… Yori." Kumi squeezed his hand comfortingly. "Rest here a while. Please."

"I have to find Shenji-san," muttered Jin.

"Is he that Miyazaki?"

"Yes."

"Is he the one who did this to you?"

"Yes."

Kumi shook her head. "Yori, I hope you find him. I hope you find him so you can give him what he deserves."

"You may not believe this…" murmured Jin, smiling up sadly through his circle-lined eyes, "…but that was my original plan."

"You ought to follow through with it," said Kumi. "Someone who keeps surviving like you is stronger than that. You're not the kind of guy who would just give up, Yori."

"I'm just… tired," muttered Jin.

"That's what rest is for," said Kumi firmly, rising. "Come on. I think your old room is open."


	29. Chapter 28: Homecoming

(Author's Note: The last three chapters are very short. But I sorta split them to make the story an even thirty. By the way, the total word count, excluding author's notes, is roughly 90,000. That's nearly 400 pages in a book. Proof that I have no life!)

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

"What now?" grumbled Mugen as Fuu came scurrying down the path towards him. She had wandered ahead for no other reason than to see the sights. Even though the country was bare and unpromising, there was something beautiful about it. North of Kisarazu was an endless expanse of golden fields of tall grass, thick lush forests, and an occasional, stunning green rice paddy with a charming house nestled in its folds. The sky was clear and it was a warm day with a slight breeze. The clouds were just beginning to take on tints of pink and gold. Fuu felt like she'd never had such a long day in her life: first she'd snuck into the dojo with a piglet, then been held hostage, and then spent all afternoon walking. And now... now this.

"Mugen!" gasped Fuu. "Mugen—you have to see this! Come here! Come on! Hurry! You won't believe it!"

"What is it?" demanded Mugen, not budging as Fuu tugged frantically on his arm.

"Just come on!" she begged. "Please! Mugen—it's incredible!"

Grudgingly, Mugen let Fuu lead him off the path. Rini and Jin Junior followed. Off the dirt trail, they pushed through a sparse forest which had probably been planted as a windbreak. On the other side was a field that stretched on forever, giving rise to hazy purple mountains and forests in the distance.

"Look!" Fuu pointed to a low hill. Mugen squinted, and then the color drained from his face.

"Holy… heck," he said. His eyes were fixed on the hill that rose from the field, and on it, a small house nestled comfortably, with a tree sticking out of its based, tilted severely.

"Heck?" repeated Fuu. Mugen was already wading through the grass toward the house.

"What? What is it?" asked Rini.

"It's Jin's house!" exclaimed Fuu. "It's got to be—look at that tree!"

Rini looked doubtful. She gathered up her kimono and leapt through the overgrown pastures after Fuu. "It could be anyone's house," she grumbled. "All the houses around here look the same. What are the chances we'd come across Jin's house?"

"Really good!" answered Mugen. "We already knew he lived north of the dojo, right? And he went back there after he left, right? We've probably been following the same road he did when he left without even knowing!" Eagerly, he climbed up the hill, Fuu and Rini puffing after him.

At the top he froze, like he was suddenly too apprehensive to approach the house. It certainly didn't look very inviting. The roof had fallen in on the side with the peach tree. Overgrown, the tree was reaching into that half of the house. The windows were like wide, gaping eyes, staring blankly out. Only one still had a screen over it, and the screen was ripped clear through the middle, separating the picture into two parts; one showed misty mountains nestled with temples and waterfalls, the other half showing a lone figure in a forest, looking longing across the rip toward them.

Slowly, Mugen walked around the house. On the side opposite to the tree was what remained of a garden. Grass was growing into it, and leaves had covered its once-mossy expanse. There was a crumbled stone lantern and a broken fountain; one spot was a haphazard spreading of sand and rock, like a seashore that had been misplaced and scattered. A stone Buddha smiled at them as moss grew up his weather-worn, shapeless face.

"Mugen… let's go," said Fuu nervously. "This place is creepy. And Rini's right, it could be someone else's house."

"No. It's his," said Mugen confidently. "I know it is. Come on." Fuu and Rini protested as Mugen poked his head inside. "It's not like anyone _lives _here," he said, edging into the house. Inside, it was as empty as a cave. Leaves had blown in the open windows and gathered in the corners. There was some furniture, but most of it was overturned or broken, and large portions of the house had only ripped cushions and low wooden tables, feeding the empty feeling.

"I don't like this place," whined Rini as Mugen cautiously edged into the main room. The branches of the peach tree hung over the portion of missing roof, sunlight streaming down into the house.

"Whoa…" whispered Mugen reverently, examining a tattered tapestry on the wall. "Look at this. It's like being _inside_ Jin…"

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" whispered Rini. Fuu clamped her hands over her mouth in horror.

"Rini!"

"What? You didn't think that?"

"Look! Look at this!" cried Mugen, oblivious to the two of them. He indicated a broken statue on the floor; it was a cat, gesturing and smiling widely.

"That's a Maneki Neko," said Rini. "It's supposed to be good luck. My mom had one too."

"And look at this!" cried Mugen, running up the stairs to the loft. "This is where Jin slept!" he yelled down at them. His voiced echoed and then fell flat.

"Assuming this is really Jin's house…" mumbled Rini doubtfully.

"It is," said Fuu softly. She pointed at the floor. It was covered with tatami mats, many of which had been displaced to reveal the wood beneath. Ugly stains and splatters had soaked through and dried dark brown.

"Oh, my," said Rini. She shivered again. "Let's _go_."

"Yeah, I'm getting kind of creeped out," agreed Fuu. She paused to glance into a tokonoma. The alcove's scrolls were torn, tilted, and one was on the floor, along with a cracked vase and a pile of dried flowers. Fuu touched a petal tentatively, and it crumbled into dust. Most of the scrolls weren't anything too interesting—most were religious, detailing the Noble Eightfold, or elaborate drawings of the path to nirvana. But others were a testament to the family's samurai roots—one was a list of the bushido code, with a tanto hanging beside it. Fuu took the sword delicately and unsheathed it; it was completely rusted, probably the reason no one had taken it.

"Look! Here's his kitchen!" yelled Mugen from another part of the house. His call was followed by a crash.

"That was probably the last unbroken dish, too," muttered Rini, picking up a scroll facing down on the floor. "Oh… look at this."

Fuu peered over her shoulder. The paper was torn and frayed, but the faded painting on it was the same; a little boy, glancing over his shoulder, holding a fluffy dog.

"Michi…" read Fuu, pointing to the signature. "Oh, God, this is weird. MUGEN! WE WANT TO LEAVE!"

"But Fuu! This is so cool! Look!" Mugen strode into the room with a spring in his step. "That's the spot where they probably meditated! And here's the floor where they probably practiced their sword thing! And that's that spot where—"

He stopped suddenly.

"Yeah, that's the spot where Jin's parents were killed. And that's the spot where Jin was raped. Are you happy now?" demanded Fuu angrily.

"Jin was _raped_?" gasped Rini.

Fuu clamped her hands over her mouth. "Oh," she squeaked.

"Fuu!" yelled Mugen.

"No… wait," demanded Rini. "He was _raped_?"

Fuu and Mugen stared at each other in silence. Fuu looked down and rubbed one arm with her hand. Mugen crossed his arms and looked up at the ceiling (and the sky).

"Yeah. Well. Even if he was… it doesn't mean there's anything wrong with him," said Mugen.

Rini blinked, stunned. Slowly, things were clicking into place, leaving a pit in her stomach, a sickness that came from her years of devotion of Shenji and her casual comments about Jin and Mugen.

"Oh…" she said softly. Then she sat down in the middle of the floor, entirely too shocked to continue standing.

"He told us not to say anything," added Fuu, hands still over her mouth.

Rini nodded numbly, staring at a rotten peach that had fallen through the roof and, after being eaten by mice, rotted into a shapeless pulp.

"Let's go," muttered Mugen, stalking out of the house. Neither Rini nor Fuu moved. Rini's eyes never wavered from the fallen peaches on the floor.

"I… I can't believe it," she said finally. She looked up, the pain written clearly across her face. "I can… I can understand if Miyazaki-san thinks our town is beneath him. He's a powerful man. But he wouldn't… he'd _never_…"

"Okay, Rini," said Fuu gently. "Come on… Mugen will leave without us." She took Rini's arm and tried to heave her up, but she refused.

"I don't care about Mugen!" she cried angrily. "All he's done is come and—and ruin my life—and make false accusations! All three of you have been trouble and you've taken me from home and chased away Miyazaki-san and—and you're traitors to the Shogunate, too! I ought to have you all arrested!"

"You _chose_ to come with us!" snapped Fuu. Jin Junior trotted over and rested his head on Rini's knee, looking up at her with a questioning look similar to a dog's. Rini burst into tears.

"This is all that samurai's fault!" she cried.

Fuu sat down next to her, feeling awful. Somehow she felt like it was all her fault. Sure, Jin had been looking for Shenji before she'd ever met him. But he had joined her, and she'd been leading him. If it wasn't for her quest, perhaps things would have worked out differently. Perhaps he'd have taken a different path, and never found Shenji at all, and none of this would have happened. Rini would be home, blissfully ignorant, and all those samurai at the dojo would still be alive.

"I'm sorry," said Fuu softly. She picked up Jin Junior and deposited him on Rini's lap. Rini cried and hugged him.

"He can't be a bad person," she said, hiccupping and snuffling and breathing in fast, shaky bursts. "He can't! He's been so good to us… to all of us. What did your samurai ever do? He's just a trouble-making ronin! Miyazaki-san is a good person, even if—" She broke off with a sob before she was able to resume. "—even if he doesn't even know who I am or care about the town, he's still everything your stupid ronin isn't! What did you samurai ever do for anyone other than himself, huh? What?"

"His name," came a soft voice from the doorway, "is _Jin_."

Fuu and Rini turned. Mugen had come back and was leaning with his shoulder against the doorframe, looking annoyed but also slightly—was Fuu imagining it?—sympathetic.

He looked down at his nails. "And he… he did things for me. A lot of things. Maybe I'm not a whole town. But…" Mugen shrugged. "If you ask me… someone who has nothing gives a lot more than someone who has everything. Shenji fed you scraps from the table. Jin gave me everything he had to offer. And maybe it wasn't gold or anything like that, but… I think it was a lot more than Shenji ever gave anyone." He shrugged again.

"Mugen," said Fuu in surprise. "Are you saying you think friendship is more important than money?"

"Ah… Sam Hill, I don't know," mumbled Mugen, rubbing the back of his neck. "Can we just go?"

"Yeah," said Fuu quietly, not bothering to repeat "Sam Hill." She helped Rini up; Rini was still sniffling and cradling Jin Junior. The three left the house silently, pausing by the sand and the stone Buddha before going around the back of the house, the way they'd came.

Mugen paused to examine the peach tree reverently. He shook his head at it, like he was trying to figure something out.

Behind him, Fuu and Rini stood tentatively, looking at the neglected house. "Maybe we should wait here," said Fuu doubtfully. "What if Jin comes back like he did last time?"

"Why would he do that?" asked Rini, shifting Jin Junior so she could wipe her eyes.

"I don't know. He did last time. I don't know," repeated Fuu, wringing her hands.

"Hey, Fuu. C'mere. What's this say?" demanded Mugen, who was examining the trunk of the slanting tree so closely his nose nearly touched the bark.

Fuu sidled up beside him and observed the characters carved clumsily into the trunk of the tree. "Jin and Yori Were Here," she read.

"Who's Yori?" asked Rini quietly. "His brother?"

"Naw, his dog," said Mugen. "C'mon… if we're gonna rest, let's do it… you know… away from the house."

They walked down the hill and sat down in the shadow of the hill, watching twilight's fingers extend slowly over the sky, going from gold to pink to purple to a soft, velvety blue.

Jin Junior wandered away to root around the field for food. Fuu and Rini watched the little cottage on the hill fall into darkness. It loomed over them, its windows like lidless, dark eyes, a crippled monster. Fuu tried to imagine it, fifteen years ago, when it was an inviting home, perhaps with smoke rising from the chimney and a small, fluffy dog sniffing around the base of the peach tree. But her imagination was unable to make it look like anything other than a crumbling, eerie monument to tragedy.

After a while, Rini stood up with a snuffle and meandered away, rubbing her arms with her hands. Fuu sighed and flopped back. She turned her head to make a casual remark to Mugen, but his eyes were closed and he was fingering the beads on his wrist. Fuu sighed again, wishing for everything to be as it was weeks ago.

Rini cried out from another past of the field. Fuu sat bolt upright. "What is it?" she cried.

Mugen opened an eye lazily.

"I tripped over something!" called Rini.

Fuu stood up and scurried over. Mugen heaved himself to his feet sleepily and ambled after her.

"What's a rock doing in the middle of a field, anyway?" mumbled Rini, who was picking herself up and wiping her eyes miserably.

Fuu bent down. "This isn't a rock." She worked the object from the ground—it was half-buried and overgrown with grass. But even covered with dirt, when she held it up, they all saw what it was: a dog's skull.

"Oh, God, put it away!" cried Rini, shielding her eyes.

Mugen took it from Fuu's hands and turned it over. "Hey… it could just be some stray mutt that wandered over here and died," he said doubtfully. "Might not even be a dog… could be a… a demented badger skull. Look, I'm just saying, it might not be Jin's dog."

"Put it away!" wailed Rini.

"That dog died, what, thirteen years ago or something? These are probably something else's bones…"

"Please!"

Unwillingly, Mugen stopped and set the skull back into its place in the hollow of the ground.

"Please—" begged Rini. "Please, can we camp on the other side of the house? Please, I don't want to be near… it."

Fuu expected Mugen to retort with some snappish remark. But instead, staring at the ground, he muttered, "Yeah. Let's do that."

They did.

* * *

Jin and Kumi stood facing each other for the last time, in the entrance of the teahouse. It was dark outside, and the wind had picked up, setting the wind chimes tinkling angrily.

Jin examined her face; plumper, softer, less girlish and more maternal. She studied his; sallow, worn, more melancholy.

"I wish you'd stay," she said softly.

Jin shook his head. "I can't."

"You know, moving around a lot is just going to hurt you more…"

Jin smiled slightly. "Can I be hurt any worse than I am now?"

"Things can always get worse."

Jin bowed his head with a conceding "hmm."

"Any idea where you're going this time?"

Jin moved his shoulders. "Somewhere," he said quietly.

"Yori." Kumi moved toward him and took him gently by the shoulders, staring directly into his eyes. She noticed he angled his head slightly so he was looking at her through his glasses. "I know you'll think I'm being repetitive and naïve for saying this. But what happened _wasn't your fault_. I know how big you samurai are on honor. So please… remember that honor is like karma. You get it for things _you_ do. That Miyazaki's actions were his own. He's the one who was dishonored. Not you."

"Hmm," said Jin.

Kumi laughed softly and shook her head. "That's what you're going to leave me with? Just 'hmm?'"

"How about… thank you?"

Kumi smiled sadly. "That's better. And you're welcome," she added as an afterthought. "Good-bye, Yori."

He nodded his head, turned, and began walking. She watched his figure get smaller and smaller down the road; he limped purposefully along, slouched, older than his years.

She sighed and turned back to her teahouse, crossing the room to kneel beside one of her regular customers.

"Old love?" he guessed.

"Sort of," said Kumi.

"Why'd you let him go?"

"He has to find… someone," said Kumi. The man raised an eyebrow at her, so she said, "He's from that dojo down south. He's on the trail of the Thousand Man Killer."

"Ahh," said the man.

Kumi shivered and rubbed her arms. "It makes me nervous. That Jin guy, on the loose again. Maybe even right here in this village." She shuddered. "Isn't it awful? I don't feel safe…"

"Dreadful," agreed the man, downing the last swigs on tea in his cup. "He'd sooner kill you than look at you, I've heard."

"Murderers and rapists roaming around…" sighed Kumi. "What's the world coming to?"

"I'd sooner give away everything I own than meet _that_ guy…" said her customer thoughtfully.

Less than an hour later, two samurai came in from the street, raggled and furious. "Jin," they said shortly. "Blue kimono. Glasses."

Kumi went white and fainted.

* * *

Jin limped down the dirt path he'd walked many times before. He had no real direction, yet. He was going back. He didn't know to whom—Mugen and Fuu, Shenji, the dojo. Did it matter? No matter where he went, he'd lose control again, returned to a tempest-tossed life of meekly following the direction of others. It made his stomach clench.

It was a cool night, which was nice. The cold drew his mind from his pain, and kept his mind from becoming sleepy and wandering.

_Brittle leaves rattle behind me in the darkness. I walk faster to get where I'm going… somewhere_, he thought. A smile touched his lips. _I'll have to write that down… oh… _He'd left his journal at the dojo. Everyone had probably already read it. His stomach clenched again. He suddenly felt overcome with a wave of depression. He wanted to lie down in the middle of the road and just… stop.

Instead, he paused and took a few steadying breaths. What he needed was to _think_. He wasn't going to get anywhere by just wandering. He had to consider which path to take. He could probably just leave right now—turn off the road and leave everyone and everything, try to start over.

What he really needed was to meditate. A few peaceful hours of thoughtlessness, then that calm wakefulness that followed. He'd never make a good decision standing in the middle of the road, cold and pained and panicking. But this wasn't an ideal place to meditate…

With a small jolt, Jin realized there was a place nearby where he could recuperate. An isolated place, one unknown to most, one that the others would never expect him to go to a second time. One with a garden and a piece of seashore next to it.

Jin turned off the path and began to limp home.

* * *

"Do you hear that?" asked Fuu nervously.

"Fuu… that's the ninth time you've said that. If you ask one more time, I'll knock your block off," said Mugen calmly.

It was probably past midnight, but the field was magnificently lit with silver moonlight. It stretched and warped shadows, giving everything—especially the decrepit house—a dreamlike quality. Fuu and Rini couldn't sleep. Mugen had been stroking his beads the entire time, oblivious to the cold wind and the eerie landscape. Fuu and Rini had proposed lighting a fire, but Mugen had refused no the grounds that the dry grass might catch and create a brushfire. Personally, Fuu wouldn't have cared if the creepy house was burned to a crisp.

"I really heard something this time," whispered Fuu anxiously, scooting closer to Mugen.

"You heard the wind rustling the grass," said Mugen in annoyance.

"No, Mugen, I really heard something!"

"Me too!" whispered Rini anxiously.

Mugen opened his eyes to glare at the two girls clinging to his arms. "It's _nothing_."

Across from him, Jin Junior came hurrying up with a few anxious snorts. He sat down in Mugen's lap.

With a grunt of irritation, Mugen rose. The pig slid off him and the two girls were torn away from his sleeves. "I'll show all of you, it's nothing!" he snapped to the three, who were huddled together, shivering with cold and worry. He reached behind his back and tugged his sword out, muttering, "This is _so_ stupid."

Mugen waded confidentially across the field towards the trees and the road beyond them. Rini and Fuu scuttled after him, glancing around like frightened deer.

Mugen yelped and jumped back when a figure emerged from the trees. He stepped on Fuu's foot; she squealed and pulled away, accidentally knocking over Rini, who fell on Jin Junior.

"JIN!" yelled Mugen. He dropped his sword and lunged at Jin, while Rini picked herself up and Jin Junior squealed with rage.

"I knew we'd find you!" said Mugen gleefully as the two fell to the ground in a heap. Without thinking, he pecked Jin on the lips. Then, horribly embarrassed, he untangled himself from Jin and jumped back back, assuming a nonchalant pose while looking steadfastedly away. "I mean… I knew you were alive," he said coolly, "because, you know, you never die. Not that I care…"

"Hmm," said Jin in annoyance, climbing painfully to his feet and brushing the sleeves of his kimono. He looked from Mugen to Fuu with a hawklike stare, then finally said, "Why are you here?"

"We knew you'd come here," said Fuu. "And… we wanted to wait for you." Feeling that she wasn't being quite fair, she reprimanded herself, "Mugen did."

"No I didn't!" said Mugen in alarm, casting an anxious glance at Rini.

Jin's face, lit with moonlight, twisted into a smile. Fuu knew he understood.

"I came to meditate," he said softly, "before I start my journey."

"Journey?" demanded Fuu. "What journey? To where?"

Jin shrugged. "I'm about to find out."


	30. Chapter 29: Vengence and Mercy

(Author's Note: Do you think it's formulaic that I had everyone go back to Jin's house? Perhaps it is. But symbolically it's important. Jin is going "back in time," and is being given the oppurtunity to fix things. So stop complaining about how predictable I'm being; I'm only doing it for Jin!)

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

As the party walked across the field, Fuu saw telltale signs of exhaustion from Jin. His head was bowed, his back slouched. He was limping heavily, far worse than he had been earlier.

It struck her that it might not be his injured leg this time.

"I brought your journal," said Rini suddenly.

Jin's head rose. "You did?" he asked softly.

"And your swords," said Fuu.

There was a long pause. Jin had bowed his head again, hiding his eyes behind both his hair and his glasses. Finally, Fuu heard him mutter "Thank you" in a strangled voice.

They walked back to the place they'd been resting before Jin's arrival, a circle of flattened grass with their things strewn around the perimeter. Rini flopped down without a second thought, but Mugen and Jin remained standing.

Jin observed his swords with a curt nod. Then he offered Mugen his hand. Mugen took it. Without a word, both walked away.

"Going to meditate?" guessed Rini, putting a sarcastic emphasis on "meditate."

"Yes, they are!" snapped Fuu, surprised by her own anger. "And you'd better stop taking out all your disappointment over Shenji on them, or we'll leave you right here to figure out your own way home!"

Rini was silent.

* * *

Jin Junior had been lying down with his head resting on his two tiny forefeet for nearly an hour, when he abruptly picked up his head.

Fuu followed his gaze, confused. There was no noise, no wind, nothing that she could see that had attracted the pig's attention. But he stared so intently that she rose and directed her attention to the same area.

She wasn't disappointed. Two samurai emerged from the trees. For a split second, she thought it was Mugen and Jin. But they had gone in the opposite direction.

Slowly, two familiar faces came into focus.

Rini scrambled to her feet. "Miyazaki-san!" she exclaimed, bowing.

Shenji scowled and looked at her disdainfully. "You again?" he said with unconcealed contempt. Fuu heard Rini give a little cry that Shenji probably didn't hear—and, if he did, didn't care about.

"Where is he?" asked the second samurai—Saiyu. Yet it wasn't the same Saiyu Fuu remembered. She'd seen this samurai before, and he'd always seemed calm, level-headed, reasonable. But now his face was twisted into unparallel fury, making it ugly and monstrous. He already had his swords out.

Fuu opened her mouth—unsure of what to say, but knowing she had to say _something_—when she was saved by a voice behind her.

"I'm here."

Fuu stepped out of the way, grabbing Rini under the arms and dragging her away. Jin Junior followed Fuu and peeked through her legs with a snort of worry.

Jin and Mugen faced Shenji and Saiyu, all four casting long, moonlight shadows over the silver waves of the grass.

"Thought you could get away?" asked Shenji.

"No," said Jin honestly.

"You're a coward, Jin. Running away. That's just cowardice."

Jin gave no indication he'd heard.

"At least your parents had _some_ sense of nerve." He nodded toward the house behind Jin. "For Takeda, I mean. They stayed and fought. More than you've ever done."

Jin's head, previously angled toward the ground, jerked up. "You don't know anything about what happened to my parents," he said softly.

Shenji smirked. "I know more than you know, you Takeda bastard. A lot more."

* * *

_The screen slammed as Ryuji came home. It was late, but every lantern in the house was still burning, and his wife, Kira, was standing sleepily over a sink, mixing some beef in water for shabushado. _

_Ryuji kicked off his sandals unceremoniously and crossed the room, tossing a purse of coins on the table._

"_What's wrong?" asked Kira, looking up._

_He lifted his right arm without a word. A long, deep gash across his ribs was leaking blood. "Fucking Takeda woman," he muttered softly._

"_Oh... Ryuji," whispered Kira, hugging him._

"_It's not too bad… it'll heal," he said roughly. _

"_All were killed, I take it?" asked his wife, nodding to the coins on the table._

_Ryuji ran a tired hand over his face. "The man and the woman. They were supposed to have a son, but we couldn't find him. Doesn't matter, anyways. The kid was probably only six."_

_Kira shook her head. "Why would people like that have a child in the first place?" she asked plaintively._

"_They're Takeda," he said flatly, easing himself into a chair and raising his arm to examine the wound. "The dog bit me, too. Miserable little rat thing. Between that and the woman, I had my hands full…"_

"_How many others were there?"_

"_Oh… I don't know. Over a dozen, easy. There were some Kawano… Fukuoka… Negishi. Lots of good people. But that woman… she was like a wind-demon. After the man went down, it was all we could do to hold her. She nearly took my head off a few times… The whole time he spoke, his voice rose steadily, excited by the fight. Kira hushed him anxiously. _

"_Shenji is sleeping!" she hissed._

_But Shenji wasn't. He was sitting on the steps. He was only seven, but had learned something. Whenever his father and mother kissed in the evening and then his father left, it meant he was going to do something dangerous. He often came back the next morning boasting wounds and talking about the glory of working for the Shogunate. Shenji had learned to embrace him whenever he left in the evening, because he might never come back. Every night, Shenji would sit on the steps, his head in his hands, while the cat weaved around his legs purring. He would listen cautiously to his parents' conversation, to find out how badly his father was hurt, and then creep back to bed before they could discover him._

"_A few people went a bit crazy," Ryuji was murmuring now. Shenji had to lean forward to listen. "Kept hacking away at her after she'd fallen. Nothing left of her pretty little face but mincemeat."_

"_Ryuji!" cried Kari reprovingly. "That's a horrible thing to say! You should kill with honor."_

"_Ah, what do you know about honor, woman?" There was a squeak as Ryuji leaned back in his chair. "Besides, they were only Takeda dogs…"_

"_I hope no one got _too_ carried away," said Kari with a hint of warning in her voice._

"_Oh, no," said Ryuji quickly. "No one would want to fuck that Takeda bitch, anyway, if that's what you mean. There wasn't even anything left to fuck…"_

"_Shh! Shenji!"_

"_Right, right." Ryuji lowered his voice again. "By the way, I got a message from Kariya Kagetoki. He, ah, wanted to know if we'd be interested in earning a little more money on the side…"_

"_No. Absolutely not," said Kari curtly. "I worry enough with you doing all these suicidal tasks for the Shogunate. I won't have you working as some sort of personal assassin for that man…"_

"_Come on, baby. Do you know how hard it is to find work? We're just barely making ends meet as it is. War times are over. Soon, there won't be anything left _but_ assassin jobs. It's only a matter of time before Master Enshirou-san turns over the dojo to Kariya Kagetoki. You own son might train under him one day…"_

"_And when he does, so can you," snapped Kari._

"_Hell, why should I listen to you anyway?" scoffed Ryuji, and Shenji heard a light slapping sound. "Get me something to eat already, will you?"_

"_Anything for my dearest husband…" muttered Kari sarcastically. Normally, it would have escalated into a fight that would leave Shenji clamping his pillow over his head, trying to muffle out the screams and slaps and clashes. But, perhaps because of Ryuji's injury, he let the comment slide, and Shenji tip-toed back upstairs to a peaceful sleep._

* * *

Shenji found himself smirking, savoring the memory. "The Shogun sent my father to kill you. But you ran away then, too, didn't you? Fate's been good to me; I can complete that task now. You can run your whole life, Jin. But we'll always find you. The Miyazaki never leave a task unfinished."

"So you're killing me now?" asked Jin humorlessly.

"It's no less than you deserve!" shouted Saiyu suddenly, springing forward. Shenji's arm darted out to stop him.

"Saiyu-san…" appealed Jin quietly.

"Don't Saiyu-san me, you son of a bitch!" shouted Saiyu. "We showed you every courtesy! We paid you ever respect! And this is how you repay us? By slaughtering everyone at the dojo? By leaving Kohachiro completely crippled and helpless, leaving him suffering like that?" His voice lowered to the softest of whispers. "You monster. You sick, monstrous freak. How would you like it if I did that to your bitch, huh?" He gestured toward Mugen.

"I'd like to see you try!" snapped Mugen, readying his sword.

Jin and Shenji held up their hands.

"That man's no bitch," said Shenji. "He happens to be a very talented swordsman."

"Like your opinion matters to me," snarled Mugen.

"I could tell you who the bitch of that relationship is," said Shenji with a twisted smile on his face, beginning to pace in front of Saiyu while staring fixedly at Jin. "Which one is the little, submissive whore. The answer might surprise you."

Jin stared back at him over the tops of his glasses, a tic starting in one eye.

"Or maybe Jin would like to tell us? Maybe Jin knows which one of us here is the sad little cunt who's bleeding like a little girl on her wedding night."

Jin's eyes narrowed as Rini and Saiyu's widened.

"Not so different from your mother after all, are you, Jin? She died the same way you will…"

Jin suddenly tensed. "My mother died honorably," he hissed.

"Oh, I seem to have hit a sensitive spot…" Shenji smirked even wider. "Just like last night, right, Jin?"

Rini made a noise—a small, weak, squawking noise of utter horror.

"I don't belong to you," said Jin softly. "You can't control me. Not anymore, Shenji."

"Such brave words from such a brave little Takeda," Shenji mocked him. "You can say anything you like, Jin. But you'll always be the pathetic little uke you've always been, just like everyone in your pathetic little family. Was she the one who taught you how to speak prettily to your seme, Jin-chan? Hm? Go ahead and speak brave words. They don't make you brave. On the inside, you're just as cowardly and ill-bred as the rest of your type. Fuck… I bet your forefathers were nothing but goat herds."

"FUU!" shouted Jin, finally losing his head. Fuu didn't need telling twice. She lunged across the ground, grabbed Jin's swords, and threw them. He caught them and lunged at Shenji, who let out a surprised yell. Mugen and Saiyu both lunged as well; for a moment the four were nothing more than a blurred design of silver swords in the dark night. Then it was over.

"Shenji," panted Jin. Shenji was flat on his back, Jin's foot pressed on his throat. He clung to Jin's sandal with wet choking noises. "You call me cowardly and pathetic. But I'm not the one who's talking. I'm not the one who hides behind words and childish bullying tactics. I worked hard for my honor. And you can—you could take me a thousand times over, and never take my honor. That's mine. And I'm never giving it to you. I'm through with you."

"Go, Jin!" said Mugen, who had Saiyu in a headlock, and a dagger pointed at his throat.

"Going… to… kill me?" wheezed Shenji.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" hissed Jin vehemently. "No, Shenji. You don't deserve that." His voice lowered, so softly that, if a breeze had blown, no one would have heard him. "There are worse things than death."

Shenji's eyes widened and, for a moment, he stopped struggled. Even Saiyu's hands, on Mugen's arm, went limp.

"Jin," said Mugen unsteadily. "Jin?"

Jin didn't stir. He and Shenji just stared at each other, Shenji's face slowly melting into a horrified realization that he was going to lose. _No_, he mouthed.

"Yes," said Jin with twisted satisfaction, beginning to smile.

"Jin!" repeated Mugen with insistently, looking alarmed. Still, Jin didn't move. He had the same crazy glint in his eye Saiyu and Shenji had. "Jin, kill him!"

Jin tossed his sword aside and pressed his throat more firmly on Shenji's throat, smiling uninhibitedly when he cried out.

Rini covered her eyes. For a split second Fuu saw Mugen's face. It was a look she'd seen before. A look that said, _I'm can't believe I'm going to do this. But I'm going to do this._

There was a flash of movement and a ripping sound. Saiyu let out a gurgle and, released from Mugen's grip, his hands flew up to his severed throat. He turned and looked at Fuu, startled, trying to mouth something at her. But all that came out was a large, red bubble; Saiyu fell to the ground, his neck spurting, and shuddered when the bubble popped.

"Jin," said Mugen desperately. "I'm sorry." He lunged suddenly and shoved Jin over, then, before Jin could rise, had pulled his sword and cut open Shenji's throat.

Rini screamed. But her scream was nothing compared to Jin's.

Jin screamed like it had been his throat that was cut and he dived toward Shenji's body, the blood already pooling beneath it. "You killed him! You killed him!" cried Jin in total disbelief. His eyes were wide behind his glasses; he looked like he couldn't quite bring himself to believe it. The crazy glint was gone, and replacing it was the horror of ultimate loss. He knelt over Shenji's body, his kimono sleeves fluttering down like birds to rest of Shenji's chest. He looked up, eyes wide, at Mugen. "You killed him!" he repeated.

"I'm sorry, Jin. I had to," said Mugen quietly. He stood loosely beside him, sword dangling limply at his side, shoulders slouched.

"You… you killed him! He's dead!" The last two words made it real for Jin. He made an odd noise in the back of his throat, laid his head over Shenji's chest, and burst into a flood of tears. Fuu immediately knelt and put her arms over him, but she doubted he could sense her; it was the first time he'd completely lost control since that day with Shenji so many years ago, and Fuu doubted he knew who he was or where he was or even why he was so upset.

Mugen turned away and, having opened Pandora's box, sheathed his sword and went back towards the house.


	31. Chapter 30: Meditation on the Seashore

(Author's Note: sob... This is the last chapter. The tone is sort of different because I actually wrote this WAY back, about 15 chapters ago. But I think it's cool, and hope you do too. This story is like my baby... I wish it didn't have to end so soon.)

CHAPTER THIRTY

"I'm… I'm sorry about everything," said Fuu softly.

"Oh… that's okay," mumbled Rini.

She and Fuu stood together at the crossroads. It was four days after Shenji's death. Rini was cuddling Jin Junior, who was grunting happily; it was a bright and beautiful day.

"It's not," said Fuu, swinging her body uncomfortably.

"At least… I guess, at least I know the truth about Miyazaki-san now," said Rini. She took a deep breath and said, "I mean… Shenji."

Fuu nodded. "I hope you'll be okay."

"We'll manage." Rini gave her a brief smile, and the two embraced awkwardly, with the piglet between them. Jin Junior nuzzled Fuu's cheek slightly; she rested her hand on his head briefly.

"Bye, Rini. Bye, Jin Junior," she said sadly.

"bye, Fuu." Rini heisted. "Bye, Mugen. Bye, Jin."

Mugen nodded. He and Jin were standing beside each other uncomfortably, behind Fuu. Mugen had his arms crossed. Jin was staring at the ground, twisting his hands.

Mugen and Fuu watched Rini turn her back on them and begin her way home, down the right fork of the road. She turned after a moment and waved; then she set down Jin Junior, and with the pig trotting at her heels, resumed walking.

Fuu sighed and turned down the left fork, the fastest route north, to Nagasaki. Mugen and Jin followed her silently. For a long time, they walked with any exchange of words. Mugen and Fuu fell into step; Jin trailed behind, head bowed.

"You know I had to, right? You know I couldn't let you become a monster," said Mugen.

"I know," said Jin.

Fuu and Mugen were walking side-by-side down the middle. Jin was behind them, on the very edge of the road, his shoulders slumped, staring at the ground. He hadn't quite recovered yet; he limped along like a beaten dog, looking confused and sad at the same time. At least he was talking; for a few days he didn't utter a word, and Fuu had become worried it would be permanent.

"You know he wasn't worth that, right?"

"Yes."

"You're not going to keep moping, are you? Because you know we did the right thing. You're free of him now."

"But…" said Jin. He didn't finish. He looked hopelessly lost.

"Come on. Don't tell me it's your purpose. A guy like you probably has a way greater purpose than that," said Mugen soothingly. "Just because you don't know it doesn't mean it's not there. You'll find it. Someday you'll open your eyes and see the whole… gosh-darn beach."

"Gosh-darn?"

"Cripes, Fuu, I'm getting really sick of you repeating everything I say."

"Cripes?"

"I mean it… you're being a pain in the… butt… _don't_!" he warned

"Butt?" repeated Fuu.

"How come you never make fun of Jin?"

"I like Jin."

"You don't like me?"

"No."

Mugen wrinkled his nose at her and muttered something darkly, but then turned his attention back to Jin. He'd been comforting Jin almost non-stop. He would never admit it, but he would be devastated if Jin stayed permanently mad at him. And Jin would never admit it, but he wouldn't be able to stay mad at Mugen, anyways. He'd told Fuu last night, softly, that he wasn't sure he would have been able to go through with it.

"I wanted to," he'd told her softly, the firelight flickering over his face, his hair creating inky, distorted shadows over his face. Mugen snored behind them. "But… I didn't."

Somehow Fuu had understood.

"I just wanted to… feel again. And let him feel how it felt not to feel. Does that make sense?"

'Yes, Jin," she'd answered quietly.

"I just wanted… to take it back." Here Jin had stopped because his eyes had filled with tears, which had been happening frequently over the last few days. His thumbs, hooked in his obi, had slid to his sword hilt and he'd gripped it until his knuckles were white. He didn't have to explain any more; Fuu knew.

"Anyways," said Mugen as he walked breezily down the street, head held up and swinging his limbs in a contented way, "You're not really like that, you know."

"No," agreed Jin unhappily.

"And now you can move on."

"You could start writing again," added Fuu. "You haven't written since we gave you back your journal. And I thought you were pretty good at it."

Jin shrugged. He reached up to brush the journal in his kimono.

"Or you can find someone who _really_ matters, you know? _Love_," said Mugen, half-teasingly.

"Oh, so now you're the match-maker?" asked Fuu cynically.

"I have my charm," said Mugen.

"You have about as much charm as a giant squid with leprosy."

"Vivid," said Jin. He finally looked up at the sky, smiling slightly.

"I dunno why I even bother…" mumbled Mugen, scuffing his toes in the dirt, kicking up dust that hit Fuu in the face. She put her palms out as if she could push it away, turned her head and coughed.

Fuu hadn't really given much more thought to Jin's and Mugen's newfound "friendship." She didn't really care, either. They still got into fights, got on each other's nerves. The only thing that was different was occasionally waking up to find them curled up together, sometimes Mugen absent-mindedly stroking Jin's neck, or Jin's arm around Mugen like he was a pillow. Even if they _were_… well… like "that," it didn't matter much. Not to Fuu, not as long as it didn't mess up her quest, which was finally back to where it had been before anything had happened.

"…and lots of girls love my street-smart, delinquent, animal magnetism!" Mugen was saying.

"Yeah, sure, whatever, Mugen."

"Fuu, you're a real slu—"

"Slut?"

"No… um… you're a real… slug. Yeah."

"Slug?"

"SHUT UP!" roared Mugen, who was still getting the hang of self-control. "Just shut up! Stop trying to make me snap! I'm trying to improve myself, okay! Maybe this is the reason I never tried before, because people like _you_ make fun of me! I don't even know why I agreed to this stupid mission thing, anyways! When are we getting to the next city?"

"Rini said tomorrow," said Jin.

"Going to try to dump me again?" asked Fuu.

"Definitely. Me and Jin'll give you the slip so fast, your head'll spin," said Mugen. "And then we'll hit the whorehouses! Sorry, I mean, we'll hit the… um… 'bathhouses.'" He put "bathhouses" in quotations using his fingers, to implicate his meaning.

Fuu groaned.

"Find us some sweet pieces of as—asphalt. On the road, I mean. Ah, forget it, we're gonna get laid. I'm talking…" He used his hands to demonstrate the silhouette of a woman, finding it difficult to talk without using his normal vocabulary. "Yeah, some girls with real nice hooters… sorry… real nice… um… 'personalities…'"

Jin looked up a second time and smiled. "That would be nice."

"See! Told you you didn't want to fu—fuddle with a guy."

"Fuddle?"

"Next time you repeat what I'll say, I swear, I'll knock your block off."

"Yeah, whatever, Mugen." Fuu rolled her eyes and lessened her pace, letting Jin catch up to them. He and Mugen fell into step, Mugen with his open, swinging form, and Jin with his painful limp. Fuu smiled at the two walking in front of her, the sunlight lighting their way. She saw Jin glance down the path in front of them for the first time; and when Mugen reached up to slap his back, she noticed he'd added some beads to his nenju.

-The End-

* * *

(Author's Note: You know I love my thank-yous, so here is goes. deep breath... Thanks, firstly, to the real Shenji, who translated Japanese for me, who explained many Japanese things to me, and who wasn't too mad that I used his name for the evilest sociopath ever. Thanks to Wagel, my best friend, who put up with my constant writing over the last month and was cool enough to offer suggestions, such as, "Have them kiss," and "Some bondage would be hot, too." Riiiight... Thanks to Far Strider, who put up with manyh ours of rambling and helped me bang out a lot of great ideas. Thanks to Silas and Mirf, who haven't read this, but who helped me just by talking. Thanks to Keith and Sean, who are my Toshi and Tamasine. Thanks to Paula o' Keefe for her amazing Amalgam Champloo website, and to Lorrie Wendall, who answered all my e-mails and answered all my questions. Thanks to Kevin, who got me most of the Champloo songs to listen to during my writing. Thanks to my girlfriend and ex-girlfriend, who both got into a huge fight and whose hormonal teenage drama provided fodder for my story. Thanks to Dan, Mike, and Steve, who were pretty understanding about the whole shounen ai thing, although Mike did tell me he was "okay with it" if I'm gay. And, last but not least, thanks to my gigantic cat, Spring, who can't even read, butwho is truly a furry version of Jin Junior. And now, one final tanka... 

Captive by the mouth,

Words are generally ignored.

Until the teeth lift,

And spout wisdom or deceit.

This double-edged sword is freed.


End file.
